ELSON JUNIOR 
LITERATURE 




BOOK TWO 




ELSON • KECK ..BURRIS 



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ELSON JUNIOR 
LITE R ATU R E 
♦ BOOK TWO ♦ 



by 



WILLIAM H. ELSON 

CHRISTINE M.^ KECK 

MARY H. BURRIS 



Life-Redding Service 



SCOTT, FORESMAN AND COMPANY 

CHICAGO ATLANTA DALLAS NEW YORK 



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t\^4ta 









Copyright 1932, 1936 by 
Scott, Fores man and Company 



For permission to use copyrighted material, grateful acknowledgment is 
made to H. W. Wack for "The Camper's Creed" ; to Doubleday, Doran and 
Company for "Coaly-Bay, the Outlaw Horse" from Wild Animal Ways by 
Ernest Thompson Seton and for "Birds of the Southern Winter" from .Dap 
Off in Dixie by Archibald Rutledge ; to George W. Jacobs and Company for 
"The Thundering Herd" from King of the Thundering Herd by Clarence 
Hawkes ; to John P. Morton and Company for "Morning-Glories" from Poet 
and Nature and the Morning Road by Madison Cawein ; to Dodd, Mead and 
Company, Inc., for "May Is Building Her House" from The Lonely Dancer 
by Richard Le Gallienne and for "The Sea Gypsy" by Richard Hovey from 
Songs from Vagabondia by Bliss Carman and Richard Hovey ; to Small, May- 
nard and Company for "A Vagabond Song" from Songs from Vagabondia 
by Bliss Carman ; to Charles Scribner's Sons for "Salute to the Trees" and 
"The Footpath to Peace" by Henry van Dyke, and for "Pete of the Steel 
Mills" by Herschel S. Hall; to Harper and Brothers for "Bob-White : A 
Vanishing Game Bird" from Sanctuary! Sanctuary! by Dallas Lore Sharp; 
to Our Dumb Animals and the author for "How to Catch a Bird" by Leland 
B. Jacobs; to Nature Magazine and the author for "The Plucking of Wild 
Flowers" by P. L. Ricker and for "Louis Pasteur : His Service to Mankind" 
by Erwin F. Smith, U. S. Department of Agriculture; to E. P. Dutton and 
Company for "Heritage" from / Sing the Pioneer by Arthur Guiterman ; to 
Outdoar America for "Wild Life and the Forest" by William T. Cox ; to the 
author for "Ships of the Desert" by Alice T. Paine; to Boys' Life and the 
author for "Air Pioneering in the Arctic" by Lincoln Ellsworth ; to Houghton 
Mifflin Company for "The Leap of Roushan Beg" from Complete Poems by 
Henry W. Longfellow; to Frederick A. Stokes for "The Highwayman" from 
Collected Poems by Alfred Noyes; to The Century Company for "The American 
Boy" from The Strenuous Life by Theodore Roosevelt and for "Steinmetz : 
Maker of Lightning" from A Magician of Science by John W. Hammond ; 
to D. Appleton and Company for "Citizenship : The Northfield Ideal" from 
The Spirit of the Leader by William Heyliger ; to Edwin Markham for "Rules 
for the Road" from The Collected Poems of Edwin Markham; to the Roy- 
crofters for "Give Your All" and "A Message to Garcia" by Elbert Hubbard ; 
to Angela Morgan for "Work : A Song of Triumph" from The Hour Has 
Struck; to The American Review of Reviews and the author for "The New 
Harvest Hand" by Henry J. Allen. 

"The Purple Grasses" from Thoreau's Notebook by Henry D. Thoreau 
is reprinted by permission of and arrangement with Houghton Mifflin Com- 
pany. "The Redwing" from Later Poems by Bliss Carman is reprinted by 
permission of Small, Maynard and Company, G. Wallace Tibbits, Lowell A. 
Mayberry, and Edmund J. Barnard, Trustees in Bankruptcy. 

Elson Junior Literature — Book Two is a revision of Junior High School 
Literature, Book Two, copyright 1920, 1928, and The Elson Readers, Book 
Eight, copyright 1921, which is a revision of the Elson Grammar School 
Readers, Book Four, copyright 1909. 

366.1 



AUG 19 Me 



Printed in the United States of America 

©CI A 98004 



PREFACE 

Elson Junior Literature, Book Two, is a revision of Junior 
High School Literature, Book Two, edition of 1928, and The 
Elson Readers, Book Eight, edition of 1921. It contains a choice 
collection of literature from the works of the best authors, both 
classic and contemporary, and includes both recreational and 
work-type material. Not only should pupils have their taste and 
judgment cultivated through familiarity with the literary 
heritage that has won recognition by its enduring worth, but 
they should, also, have their experience enriched by selections 
of undoubted value from contemporary authors who are recog- 
nized interpreters of our present-day life. Such wide and ex- 
tensive reading will not only inspire the pupil now and through- 
out life, but it will also train him in the wholesome use of his 
leisure hours. 

The primary aim of instruction in reading is to make pupils 
life readers, not merely school readers. This means that life- 
reading interests must be developed in pupils. Permanent read- 
ing interests cannot be aroused by the use of miscellaneous, un- 
related, haphazard material. The literature must be purpose- 
fully organized if it is to establish effective reading habits in 
pupils. Sound organization brings together into related units 
the selections that center about a common theme. 

This book is so organized as to fulfill these purposes. It will 
be noticed from the Contents, that there are four main Parts, 
each distinguished by unity of theme. Part One aims to inspire 
a wholesome appreciation of nature and a desire to conserve her 
resources; Part Two deals with the magic world of adventure; 
Part Three makes clear the basic principles of our great Ameri- 
can experiment in free government and points the way to good 
citizenship; and Part Four presents some phases of life in our 

3 



4 PREFACE 

homeland that will make America mean more to boys and girls. 
Through these grouped selections permanent reading interests 
may be aroused, and fundamental ideals in the development of 
personal character and good citizenship established. 

An outstanding value of such organization in this book lies 
in its tendency to weld together the school and the library. A 
school text that would train a pupil in the effective use of books, 
magazines, and newspapers must connect directly with the 
library, thus forming the core, or center, about which his general 
reading is organized. 

This book aims not only to increase the pupil's knowledge of 
a subject, but also to intensify his interest and direct him to 
related material — in short, to cultivate the extensive reading 
habit and the library method of study. It seeks to direct and 
make purposeful the pupil's outside use of books, magazines, 
and newspapers, bringing to bear upon his school reading the 
experience and knowledge gained from these sources, thus weld- 
ing together the school, the library, and the home in the develop- 
ment of right habits of reading and study. 

Carefully chosen lists of especially apt library readings, de- 
signed to broaden and deepen the pupil's knowledge and sym- 
pathy,' may be found at the ends of the various selections. These 
lists, though not exhaustive, are chosen for their specific fitness, 
their abundant interest, and their excellent literary quality. They 
include the literature of both the past and the present. Special 
attention is called to the carefully selected list, "Some Recent 
Books You Will Enjoy," pages 525-528. It includes a group 
of the most appealing volumes that have appeared within the 
past few years. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Preface 3 

What Is Literature ? (A Foreword) 9 

PART ONE 

THE WORLD OF NATURE 

The Camper's Creed Henry W. Wack 11 

Nature Brings Happiness (A Forward Look) 12 

ANIMALS AND BIRDS: 

Coaly-Bay, the Outlaw Horse . Ernest Thompson Seton ... 13 

The Thundering Herd Clarence Hawkes 26 

Ovis Poli, the Great Horned- 
Sheep Theodore Roosevelt, Jr. ... 37 

To a Waterfowl TYilliam Cidlen Bryant .... 53 

Tampa Robins Sidney Lanier 56 

The Redwing Bliss Carman 58 

The Mocking Bird John James Audubon 60 

Birds of the Southern Winter. Archibald Rutledge 66 

FLOWERS AND TREES: 

Morning-Glories Madison Cawein 74 

May Is Building Her House. . . .Richard Le Gallienne 76 

The Purple Grasses Henry D. Thoreau 78 

A Vagabond Song Bliss Carman 80 

Salute to the Trees Henry van Dyke 81 

conservation of nature: 
Bob- White: a Vanishing 

Game Bird Dallas Lore Sharp 84 

The Puzzled Game Birds Thomas Hardy 94 

How to Catch a Bird Leland B. Jacobs 95 

5 



6 CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The Plucking of Wild Flowers.P. L. Bicker 96 

Heritage Arthur Guiterman 98 

Wild Life and the Forest William T. Cox 100 

A Backward Look 106 

PART TWO 

THE WORLD OF ADVENTURE 

The Sea Gypsy Richard Hovey 107 

How to Read Adventure Stories. (A Forward Look) 108 

ROMANCE IN PROSE: 

Shd?s of the Desert Alice T. Paine 109 

Air Pioneering in the Arctic. .Lincoln Ellsworth 117 

BALLADS OLD AND NEW: 

Bonnie George Campbell Folk Ballad 128 

Lochinvar Sir Walter Scott 130 

John Gilpin William Cowper 134 

The Leap of Roushan Beg Henry W. Longfellow 145 

How They Brought the Good 

News from Ghent to Aix. . . .Robert Browning 149 

The Highwayman Alfred Noyes 153 

A STORY OF CHRISTMAS: 

A Christmas Carol Charles Dickens 159 

A TALE FROM SHAKESPEARE: 

As You Like It Charles and Mary Lamb . . . 251 

A Backward Look 268 

PART THREE 

THE GOOD CITIZEN 

The American Boy Theodore Roosevelt 269 

Guides to Citizenship (A Forward Look) 270 



CONTENTS 7 

PAGE 

THE SPIRIT OF FREEDOM: 

Paul Revere 's Ride Henry W. Longfellow 271 

Concord Hymn Ralph Waldo Emerson. . . .276 

The American Experiment Daniel Webster 277 

Gettysburg Address Abraham Lincoln 280 

Abraham Lincoln Woodrow Wilson 283 

The Character of Washington . Thomas Jefferson 289 

CITIZENSHIP AND SERVICE: 

Patriotism Begins in the Home . Henry W. Grady 293 

Letter to Mrs. Bixby Abraham Lincoln 295 

Citizenship : the Northfleld 

Ideal William Heyliger 296 

Steinmetz, Maker of Lightning. John W. Hammond 318 

Louis Pasteur : His Service 

to Mankind Erwin F. Smith 327 

IDEALS AND CREEDS: 

The Chambered Nautilus Oliver Wendell Holmes .... 331 

The Bugle Song Alfred, Lord Tennyson .... 333 

If Rudyard Kipling 335 

Yussouf James Russell Lowell 337 

A Man's a Man for A' That. . .Robert Burns 340 

Definition of a Gentleman .... Cardinal Newman 343 

Give Your All Elbert Hubbard 345 

Rules for the Road Edwin Markham 346 

The Footpath to Peace Henry van Dyke 346 

A Backward Look 348 

PART FOUR 
LITERATURE AND LIFE IN THE HOMELAND 

To My Country Marguerite Wilkinson 349 

America's Own Literature. . . . {A Forward Look) 350 

AMERICA IN LEGEND AND SONG: 

Song of the Chattahoochee. . .Sidney Lanier 351 



8 CONTEXTS 

PAGE 

Snow-Bound John Greenleaf Whittier. .353 

Rip Van Winkle Washington Irving .378 

Evangeline: a Tale of Acadie. Henry ^Y. Longfellow 399 

The Raven Edgar Allan Poe 461 

TRANSPORTATION AND COMMUNICATION: 

New York to Paris Charles A. Lindbergh 467 

A Narrow Escape Richard E. Byrd 474 

AMERICAN WORKERS AND THEIR WORK: 

The Thinker Berton Braley 493 

Work: a Song of Triumph. . . .Angela Morgan 495 

Pete'OF the Steel Mills Herschel S. Hall 498 

The New Harvest Hand Henry J. Allen 513 

A Message to Garcia Elbert Hubbard 519 

A Backward Look 524 

Some Recent Books You Will Enjoy 525 

Glossary 529 



WHAT IS LITEEATUEE? 

Through reading, as you have already learned, you gain 
happiness and knowledge. But all about you there is so much 
to read — thousands of books and magazines and papers — that 
it may be well to pause long enough to answer the question, 
' 'What kind of reading will bring these rewards? What is 
literature ?" 

In one sense, anything written or printed, as distinguished 
from that which is merely spoken, is literature. The ballad, 
a song-story, was repeated from generation to generation by 
word of mouth, changing in details of language and incident 
in the process; when it was written down and then printed, 
it became fixed, became literature. So, also, Rear Admiral 
Richard E. Byrd, for example, may tell you of his adventures ; 
when he writes his story and it is published as a book, it be- 
comes literature, in this sense of the word. 

In a truer sense, however, the word "literature" is more 
strictly limited. You have seen that it is permanence of form 
that distinguishes the book or the printed story from mere 
tradition. But thousands of books are printed that find a few 
readers for a time, and then are as completely forgotten as if 
they had been merely words spoken in conversation. Many 
things are printed, also, which are not intended to have 
permanence, such as newspaper stories of daily happenings in 
the city or throughout the world. The newspaper, to be sure, 
adds greatly to our power of partaking in the important 
events of the day, wherever they may occur. One knows 
about a flight across the sea almost as soon as the landing is 
made, or about a new invention, or the triumph of a great 
man. But these records are of a day ; true literature is for all 
time. Literature, in this truer sense, means not merely that 

9 



10 ' WHAT IS LITERATURE? 

which is printed, in contrast to that which is spoken ; it means 
the expression of the facts of life, or of the interpretation of 
life, or of the beauty of life, in language of such enduring 
charm that men treasure it and will not let it die. 

In your reading you have already become acquainted with 
literature that sets forth the " facts of life." When Hamlin 
Garland wrote sketches of his boyhood on the prairie, he was 
recording the primitive life of midwestern farmers so vividly 
that the pictures will enable future generations to understand 
the hardships, as well as the simple joys, of the thrifty, toiling 
folk who built our ' ' inland empire. ' ' When Sir Walter Scott 
gave us his Tales of a Grandfather, he was preserving for all 
time the thrilling ' 'facts of life ' ' that centered around Scot- 
land's brave struggle for freedom centuries ago. 

Literature that interprets life has also been a part of your 
reading course. Hawthorne in "The Great Stone Face" has 
interpreted for us the high ideal of service to others. And in 
this book Dickens in "A Christmas Carol' ' interprets the 
spirit of love and of human brotherhood that makes life worth 
while. 

And last, there is the literature that makes evident to us the 
beauty that our more prosaic eyes might fail to note. Robert 
Burns writes a poem about the daisy, and ever after, if you 
have read it with an understanding mind, you see new beauty 
in the flower life that lies about you. 

Facts, interpretation, beauty — these form the body of real 
literature. And when master writers clothe them in language 
of such enduring charm that men treasure it and will not let 
it die, true literature comes into being. Thus the experiences, 
the meaning, the emotions of life are given permanent form 
to enrich mankind throughout the centuries. 



PART ONE 

9/ie WORLD 
OF NATURE 




THE CAMPER'S CREED 

HENRY WELLINGTON WACK 

I love nature and her loyal books. I will 
preserve a wholesome health and spirit — 
know and count the trees and stars my 
friends, the sun and shade my comforters 
afield. 

I will never waste the natural resources 
of my native land ; nor violate its laws nor 
a sportsman's honor; nor take of game 
from woods and waters beyond my need. 
If I light a fire in a grove, I will quench it. 
I will protect the forest and its wild life. 
I will use' a brother's camp as a sacred 
trust, with a loving care, and leave it in 
order for the comfort of his late return. 



11 



NATURE BRINGS HAPPINESS 

Life offers comparatively few things of which we can 
j say, ' ' This will give me happiness as long as I live. ' ' 
One of these unfailing sources of happiness is the beauty 
of nature. All of us use the conveniences which science has 
brought us from the world of nature. We shall, however, 
lose the joy which is rightfully ours if we fail to see beauty 
as well as use in nature. 

This joy awaits us whenever we seek it. Always there 
are the passing days with sunrise and high noon and the 
evening star. Always there is the magic of spring or the 
leafy glory of midsummer or the delicate touch of the first 
snow. And always there are about us insects and birds and 
animals and dwellers in lake and sea. 

This Part of your book will help you to find your way 
in the wonderful realm of nature. You may wish to dis- 
cover for yourself some of the secrets of nature's beauty 
which bring delight to all who find them. 

You will read stories here which prove to you that ani- 
mals have personalities like human beings ; also poems and 
prose selections that reflect the joy people find in observing 
birds and flowers and trees and the changing seasons. Some 
writers will remind us that since the world of nature is a 
source of happiness meant for everyone, we have no right 
to rob it of its beauty by any selfish destruction of plant or 
animal life. 

Both scientists and poets will speak to you in this Part 
of your book. The scientists will give you facts they have 
observed; the poets will give you their interpretation of 
what they have seen. You need both for the fullest appre- 
ciation of the life-long joy that nature offers. 

12 



COALY-BAY, THE OUTLAW HORSE 

Ernest Thompson Seton 
Ernest Thompson Seton has always been interested in teaching boys 
and girls to know and love outdoor life, to be as resourceful as Indians in 
the woods, and to understand animals. He has been head of the Boy 
Scout organization in this country, and is now chief of the Woodcraft 
League. He tells us that all of his work with these organizations has been 
done with the hope of making people take an interest in the animal 
world ; for he believes that "we and the beasts are kin." 

THE WILLFUL BEAUTY 

Five years ago in the Bitterroot Mountains of Idaho there was 
a beautiful little colt. His coat was bright bay; his legs, mane, 
and tail were glossy black — coal black and bright bay — so they 
named him Coaly-Bay. 

1 c Coaly-Bay" sounds like "Kolibey," which is an Arab title 
of nobility, and those who saw the handsome colt, and did not 
know how he came by the name, thought he must be of Arab 
blood. No doubt he was, in a far-away sense, just as all our best 
horses have Arab blood; and once in a while it seems to come 
out strong and show in every part of the creature — in his frame, 
his power, his wild, free, roving spirit. 

Coaly-Bay loved to race like the wind ; he gloried in his speed 
and his tireless legs. If, when he was careering with the herd of 
colts, they met a fence or ditch, it was as natural for Coaly-Bay 
to overleap it as it was for the others to sheer off. 

So he grew up strong of limb, restless of spirit, and rebellious 
at any thought of restraint. Even the kindly curb of the hay 
yard or the stable was unwelcome, and he soon showed that he 
would rather stand out all night in a driving storm than be 
locked in a comfortable stall where he had no vestige of the 
liberty he loved so well. 

13 



14 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

He became very clever at dodging the horse-wrangler whose 
job it was to bring the horse herd to the corral. The very sight 
of that man set Coaly-Bay going. He became what is known as 
a * ' Quit-the-bunch " — that is, a horse of such independent mind 
that he will go his own way the moment he does not like the way 
of the herd. 

So each month the colt became more set on living free and 
more cunning in the means he took to win his way. Far down 
in his soul, too, there must have been a streak of cruelty, for he 
stuck at nothing and spared no one that stood between him and 
his one desire. 

When he was three years of age, just in the perfection of his 
young strength and beauty, his real troubles began, for now his 
owner undertook to break him to ride. He was as tricky and 
vicious as he was handsome, and the first day's experience was 
a terrible battle between the horse-trainer and the beautiful 
colt. 

But the man was skillful. He knew how to apply his power, 
and all the wild plunging, bucking, rearing, and rolling of the 
wild one had no desirable result. With all his strength the horse 
was hopelessly helpless in the hands of the skillful horseman, 
and Coaly-Bay was so far mastered at length that a good rider 
could use him. But each time the saddle went on, he made a 
new fight. After a few months of this the colt seemed to realize 
that it was useless to resist ; it simply won for him lashings and 
spurrings ; so he pretended to reform. For a week he was ridden 
each day, and not once did he buck ; but on the last day he came 
home lame. 

His owner turned him out to pasture. Three days later he 
seemed all right; he was caught and saddled. He did not buck, 
but within five minutes he went lame as before. Again he was 
turned out to pasture, and after a week, saddled, only to go lame 
again. 

His owner did not know what to think, whether the horse 
really had a lame leg or was only shamming ; but he took the first 
chance to get rid of him, and though Coaly-Bay was easily 



COALY-BAY, THE OUTLAW HORSE 15 

worth fifty dollars, he sold him for twenty-five. The new owner 
felt he had a bargain, but after being ridden half a mile, Coaly- 
Bay went lame. The rider got off to examine the foot, wiiereupon 
Coaly-Bay broke away and galloped back to his old pasture. 
Here he was caught, and the new owner, being neither gentle 
nor sweet, applied spur without mercy, so that the next twenty 
miles was covered in less than two hours, and no sign of lameness 
appeared. 

Now they were at the ranch of this new owner. Coaly-Bay was 
led from the door of the house to the pasture, limping all the 
way, and then turned out. He limped over to the other horses. 
On one side of the pasture was the garden of a neighbor. This 
man was very proud of his fine vegetables and had put a six-foot 
fence around the place. Yet the very night after Coaly-Bay 
arrived, certain of the horses got into the garden somehow and 
did a great deal of damage. But they leaped out before daylight, 
and no one saw them. 

The gardener was furious, but the ranchman stoutly main- 
tained that it must have been some other horses, since his were 
behind a six-foot fence. 

Next night it happened again. The ranchman went out very 
early and saw all his horses in the pasture, with Coaly-Bay 
behind them. His lameness seemed worse now instead of better. 
In a few days, however, the horse was seen walking all right ; so 
the ranchman's son caught him and tried to ride him. But this 
seemed too good a chance to lose ; all his old wickedness returned 
to the horse; the boy was bucked off at once and hurt. The 
ranchman himself now leaped into the saddle. Coaly-Bay bucked 
for ten minutes, then finding he could not throw the man, he 
tried to crush his leg against a post ; the rider, however, guarded 
himself well. Coaly-Bay reared and threw himself backward; 
the rider slipped off, the horse fell, jarring heavily, and before 
he could rise, the man was in the saddle again. The horse now 
ran away, plunging and bucking. He stopped short, but the rider 
did not go over his head; so Coaly-Bay turned, seized the man's 
boot in his teeth, and but for heavy blows on the nose would 



16 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

have torn him dreadfully. It was quite clear now that Coaly-Bay 
was an ''outlaw" — that is, an incurably vicious horse. 

The saddle was jerked off, and he was driven, limping', into 
the pasture. 

The raids on the garden continued, and the two men began 
to quarrel over them. But to prove that his horses were not 
guilty, the ranchman asked the gardener to sit up with him and 
watch. That night, as the moon was brightly shining, they saw, 
not all the horses, but Coaly-Bay, walk straight up to the garden 
fence — no sign of a limp now — easily leap over it, and proceed 
to gobble the finest things he could find. After they had made 
sure of his identity, the men ran forward. Coaly-Bay cleared 
the fence like a deer, lightly raced -over the pasture to mix with 
the horse herd, and when the men came near him, he had — oh, 
such an awful limp. 

"That settles it," said the rancher. "He's a fraud, but he's 
a beauty, and good stuff, too." 

' ' Yes, but it settles who took my garden truck, ' ' said the other. 

"Wal, I suppose so," was the answer; "but luk a here, 
neighbor, you haven't lost more'n ten dollars in truck. That 
horse is easily worth — a hundred. Give me twenty-five dollars, 
take the horse, an' call it square." 

"Not much I will," said the gardener. "I'm out twenty-five 
dollars' worth of truck; the horse isn't worth a cent more. I'll 
take him and call it even. ' ' 

And so the thing was settled. The ranchman said nothing 
about Coaly-Bay's being vicious as well as cunning, but the 
gardener found out, the very first time he tried to ride him, that 
the horse was as bad as he was beautiful. 

Next day a sign appeared on the gardener's gate: 



FOR SALE 

First-class horse, sound 
and gentle, $10.00 



COALY-BAY, THE OUTLAW HORSE 17 

THE BEAR BAIT 

Now at this time a band of hunters came riding by. There 
were three mountaineers, two men from the city, and the writer 
of this story. The city men were going to hunt bear. They had 
guns and everything needed for bear hunting, except bait. It 
is usual to buy some worthless horse or cow, drive it into the 
mountains where the bears are, and kill it there. So, seeing the 
sign, the hunters called to the gardener: "Haven't you got a 
cheaper horse?" 

The gardener replied, "Look at him there; ain't he a beauty? 
You won't find a cheaper horse if you travel a thousand miles." 

"We are looking for an old bear bait, and five dollars is our 
limit," replied the hunter. 

Horses were cheap and plentiful in that country ; buyers were 
scarce. The gardener feared that Coaly-Bay would escape. 
"Wal, if that's the best you can do, he's yourn." 

The hunter handed him five dollars, then said : ' ' Now, stranger, 
the bargain's settled. Will you tell me why you sell this fine 
horse for five dollars?" 

"Mighty simple. He can't be rode. He's dead lame when 
he's going your way and sound as a dollar going his own; no 
fence in the country can hold him; he's a dangerous outlaw. 
He's wickeder nor old Nick." 

' ' Well, he 's an almighty handsome bear bait ' ' ; and the hunters 
rode on. 

Coaly-Bay was driven with the pack horses, and limped 
dreadfully on the trail. Once or twice he tried to go back, but 
he was easily turned by the men behind him. His limp grew 
worse, and toward night it was painful to see him. 

The leading guide remarked, "That thar limp is no fake. He's 
got some deep-seated trouble. ' ' 

Day after day the hunters rode farther into the mountains, 
driving the horses along and hobbling them at night. Coaly-Bay 
went with the rest, limping along, tossing his head and his long 



18 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

splendid mane at every step. One of the hunters tried to ride 
him and nearly lost his life, for the horse seemed possessed 
of a demon as soon as the man was on his back. 

The road grew harder as it rose. A very bad bog had to be 
crossed one day. Several horses were mired in it, and as the men 
rushed to the rescue, Coaly-Bay saw his chance of escape. He 
wheeled in a moment and turned himself from a limping, low- 
headed, sorry, bad-eyed creature into a high-spirited horse. Head 
and tail aloft now, shaking their black streamers in the wind, 
he gave a joyous neigh, and, without a trace of lameness, dashed 
for his home one hundred miles away, threading each narrow 
trail with perfect certainty, though he had seen it but once 
before ; and in a few minutes he had steamed away from their 
sight. 

The men were furious, but one of them, saying not a word, 
leaped on his horse — to do what? Follow that free-ranging 
racer ? Sheer folly. Oh, no ! — he knew a better plan. He knew 
the country. Two miles around by the trail, half a mile by the 
rough cut-off he took, was Panther Gap. The runaway must 
pass through that, and Coaly-Bay raced down the trail to find 
the guide below awaiting him. Tossing his head with anger, he 
wheeled on up the trail again, and within a few yards recovered 
his monotonous limp and his evil expression. He was driven 
into camp, and there he vented his rage by kicking in the ribs 
of a harmless little pack horse. 

HIS DESTINED END 

This was bear country, and the hunters resolved to end his 
dangerous pranks and make him useful for once. They dared 
not catch him; it was not really safe to go near him, but two 
of the guides drove him to a distant glade where bears abounded. 
A thrill of pity came over me as I saw that beautiful untamable 
creature going away with his imitation limp. "Aren't you 
coming along?" called the guide. 

"No, I don't want to see him die," was the answer. Then as 



COALY-BAY, THE OUTLAW HORSE 19 

the tossing head was disappearing, I called: "Say, fellows, I 
wish you would bring me that mane and tail when you come 
back!" 

Fifteen minutes later a distant rifle crack was heard, and in 
my mind's eye I saw that proud head and those superb limbs, 
robbed of their sustaining indomitable spirit, falling flat and 
limp. Poor Coaly-Bay; he would not bear the yoke. Rebellious 
to the end, he had fought against the fate of all his kind. It 
seemed to me the spirit of an eagle or a wolf it was that dwelt 
behind those full, bright eyes — that ordered all his wayward 
life. 

I tried to put the tragic finish out of my mind, and had not 
long to battle with the thought, not even one short hour, for the 
men came back. 

Down the long trail to the west they had driven him; there 
was no chance for him to turn aside. He must go on, and the 
men behind felt safe in that. 

Farther away from his old home on the Bitterroot River he 
had gone each time he journeyed. And now he had passed the 
high divide and was keeping the narrow trail that leads to the 
valley of bears and on to Salmon River, and still away to the 
open, wild Columbian Plains, limping sadly as though he knew. 
His glossy hide flashed back the golden sunlight still richer 
than it fell, and the men behind followed like hangmen in the 
death train of a nobleman condemned — down the narrow trail 
till it opened into a little meadow, with rank, rich grass, a lovely 
mountain stream, and winding bear paths up and down the 
waterside. 

"Guess this '11 do," said the older man. "Well, here goes for 
a sure death or a clean miss," said the other confidently, and, 
waiting till the limper was out in the middle of the meadow, 
he gave a short, sharp whistle. Instantly Coaly-Bay was alert. 
He swung and faced his tormentors, his noble head erect, his 
nostrils flaring, a picture of horse beauty — yes, of horse per- 
fection. 



20 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 




The rifle was leveled, the very brain its mark, just on the 
cross line of the eyes and ears, that meant sure, sudden, painless 
death. 

The rifle cracked. The great horse wheeled and dashed away. 
It was sudden death or miss — and the marksman missed. 

Away went the wild horse at his famous best, not for his 
eastern home, but down the unknown western trail, away and 
away. The pine woods hid him from view, and left behind was 
the rifleman vainly trying to force the empty cartridge from 
his gun. 

Down that trail with an inborn certainty he went, and on 
through the pines, then leaped a great bog, and splashed an 
hour later through the limpid Clearwater, and on, responsive 
to some unknown guide that subtly called him from the farther 
west. And so he went till the dwindling pines gave place to 
scrubby cedars, and these in turn were mixed with sage, and 
onward still, till the far-away flat plains of Salmon River were 



COALY-BAY, THE OUTLAW HORSE 21 

about him. And ever on, tireless as it seemed, he went, and 
crossed the canyon of the mighty Snake, and up again to the 
high, wild plains where the wire fence still is not; and on, 
beyond the Buffalo Hump, till moving specks on the far horizon 
caught his eager eyes, and coming on and near, they moved and 
rushed aside to wheel and face about. He lifted up his voice and 
called to them, the long shrill neigh of his kindred when they 
bugled to each other on the far Chaldean plain ; and back their 
answer came. This way and that they wheeled and sped and 
caracoled, and Coaly-Bay drew nearer, called, and gave the 
countersigns his kindred know, till this they were assured — he 
was their kind, he was of the wild free blood that man had never 
tamed. And when the night came down on the purpling plain, 
his place was in the herd as one who, after many a long hard 
journey in the dark, had found his home. 

There you may see him yet, for still his strength endures, and 
his beauty is not less. The riders tell me they have seen him 
many times by Cedra. He is swift and strong among the swift 
ones, but it is the flowing mane and tail that mark him chiefly 
from afar. 

There on the wild free plains of sage he lives ; the stormwind 
smites his glossy coat at night ; and the winter snows are driven 
hard on him at times ; the wolves are there to harry all the weak 
ones of the herd, and in the spring the mighty grizzly, too, may 
come to claim his toll. There are no luscious pastures made by 
man, no grain-foods ; nothing but the wild, hard hay, the wind, 
and the open plains, but here at last he found the thing he 
craved — the one worth all the rest. Long may he roam — this 
is my wish, and this — that I may see him once again in all the 
glory of his speed with his black mane on the wind, the spurgalls 
gone from his flanks, and in his eye the blazing light that grew 
in his far-off forebears' eyes as they spurned Arabian plains to 
leave behind the racing wild beast and the fleet gazelle — yes, 
too, the driving sandstorm that o'erwhelmed the rest, but strove 
in vain on the dusty wake of the desert's highest born. 



22 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

How to Gain the Full Benefit from Your Reading 

The reading of "Coaly-Bay, the Outlaw Horse," besides giving you 
pleasure, has no doubt brought to you a new idea of the spirit of the 
wild horse and the interesting life of the cowboy. But if you are to get 
the full benefit from this or any other selection in the book, you will 
need to pause long enough to notice certain facts. These facts will help 
you to enjoy more keenly and to understand more clearly what you 
read, and to train yourself in correct habits of reading. 

First, you should read and discuss in class "What Is Literature?" 
(page 9) and examine the Table of Contents (page 5) to gain a general 
understanding of the aims and purposes of the book as a whole. As 
you look through the Contents, you will notice that each of the four main 
Parts centers about some one main idea, such as Nature, Adventure, 
etc. Every selection in the Part, whether prose or poetry, will mean 
more to you if you understand how it, united with the others, helps to 
bring out the central thought of the unit. Before reading the selections 
in any group, you are asked to read and discuss in class the "Forward 
Look" that precedes the group in order that you may know in a general 
way what to expect. For example, as a preparation for a full appreci- 
ation of "Coaly-Bay, the Outlaw Horse," read "Nature Brings Happi- 
ness" (page 12). After you have read all of the selections in a group, 
you will enjoy a pleasant class period discussing the summary found 
at the "close of each unit — taking stock, as it were, of the joy and benefit 
gained from your reading. (See "A Backward Look," page 106.) 

In addition to the Forward and Backward Looks, this book provides 
other helps to assist you in getting all of the thought from the printed 
page. For example, you will notice that a brief paragraph appears at 
the beginning of some of the selections ; read this note before you begin 
to read the story, for it contains information which will add to your 
interest. 

After you have read a selection through, in preparation for the class 
period, you will find "Notes and Questions" that direct your attention 
to important points in the story and to topics for informal class 
discussion. These "Notes and Questions" will: (1) indicate the beauty 
or effectiveness of the author's language; (2) bring out the connection 
between the thought of the selection and the central idea or theme of 
the group; (3) suggest problems through which you may apply to real 
life situations the knowledge gained from your reading. 



COALY-BAY, THE OUTLAW HORSE 23 

One of the chief benefits you should gain from your reading is the 
learning of new words and the ability to use them. Whenever you meet 
a word or a phrase that you do not understand, form the habit of looking 
it up in the Glossary, page 529. Lists of words and phrases are given for 
study. Look these up in the Glossary, for you will often find the hardest 
passage of the reading lesson made easy bj^ the explanation of a single 
phrase. 

Notes and Questions 

1. Coaly-Bay had four owners. Which one 

( a ) made the best bargain ? 

(b) seemed to get the worst of it ? 

(c) made short work of his ownership ? 

2. What is the author's definition of an "outlaw" horse? Give three 
examples of the cruelty of Coaly-Bay which prove that he was an 
"outlaw." 

3. Arabian horses are noted for their speed, intelligence, spirit, and 
beauty of form ; what facts are brought out in this story that lead you 
to believe that Coaly-Bay must have been of Arabian blood ? 

4. Throughout the story different men showed admiration and sym- 
pathy for Coaly-Bay. For example, one rancher said: "He's a fraud, 
but he's a beauty, and good stuff, too" Find three or more other 
expressions which show that the horse was not wholly disliked. 

5. The gardener gave the hunter four reasons why he sold so fine a 
horse for only five dollars : 

(a) "He can't be rode." 
What were the other three reasons ? 

6. Copy the following outline on your paper and complete it by adding 
topics which describe each main heading : 

I. The Willful Beauty 

A. The scene of the story 

B. Coaly-Bay, his appearance and disposition 
C. 

D. 
E. 
F. 

II. The Bear Bait 
A. 



24 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

B. 
C. 

III. His Destined End 
A. 
B. 
C. 

7. If you do not know the meaning or pronunciation of these words, 
look them up in the Glossary : Arab, careering, vestige, corral, indomi- 
table, subtly, caracoled, harry. 

8. There are some rather difficult phrases in this story. Several of 
them are explained in the Glossary : 

possessed of a demon (p. 18) Chaldean plain (p. 21) 

inborn certainty (p. 20) .desert's highest born (p. 21) 

If you love horses, you may want to read Piebald, King of Bronchos, 

Hawkes; Ben the Battle Horse, Dyer; Wildfire, Grey; Smoky, James; 

"The Arab's Farewell to His Steed," Norton (in Songs of Horses). See 

also "Some Recent Books You Will Enjoy," p. 525. 

Library Reading 

Your interest in the various authors, aroused by reading their stories 
or poems in this volume, may make you wish to know more of their 
works; or your interest in the subjects they discuss may make you wish 
to read more along these lines. For example, your interest in "Coaly- 
Bay" may lead you to read other animal stories, particularly those by 
Seton, which may be found in Animal Ways. 

You will do your class and yourself a real service by making a brief 
report, giving all the boys and girls the benefit of your individual read- 
ing. Your classmates will enjoy hearing you review in an interesting 
way a favorite book or a particular story in a book, giving the title, 
the author, the time and scene, the principal characters, and a brief 
outline of the story, reading from it the passages which you think will 
be most interesting. 

The public library is the place to which you will go for additional 
reading and reference material. In order to learn how to use the library, 
ask the librarian to explain to you the card catalogue system and the 
arrangement of the books on the shelves. Locate in the library The 
Readers' Guide to Periodical Literature, the American and the English 



COALY-BAY, THE OUTLAW HORSE 



25 



Who's Who, the encyclopedias, and the dictionaries, so that you may be 
independent in looking up information. 

You may find it interesting to keep an individual record of your 
reading on a card similar to the one shown below. The result will fur- 
nish valuable information. All the cards should be so filed that any pupil 
may consult them, from time to time, to see what books and magazine 
articles have been especially enjoyed by his classmates. 



Books and Magazines 


Title 


Author 


Date 


Comments 



























Vocabulary Building 

The meaning and pronunciation of new words, on which you may 
need assistance, and which you may like to learn to use in your everyday 
speech and writing, are placed in the Glossary, at the back of the book. 

The person who has a large speaking vocabulary has a distinct advan- 
tage over the person having only a meager one, for he is able to express 
his thoughts more clearly, more exactly, more convincingly. 

Your reading lesson is one of the richest sources for increasing your 
vocabulary. If you are an average student in your class, you probably 
have made the acquaintance of some eight to ten thousand words that 
you recognize at sight when you are reading. This number is very much 
larger than the number of words you use in your speaking vocabulary. 
Words creep naturally from your reading vocabulary into your speaking 
vocabulary, but you can make the number a much larger one by con- 
scious effort. When you are writing, you also find yourself using words 
that you scarcely have the courage to use when you are speaking. It is 
a good plan to set a record for yourself, to determine to add to your 
vocabulary ten, twenty, fifty, or more, new words during the year. 



THE THUNDEBING HEED 

Clarence Hawkes 

Clarence Hawkes is a member of the American Bison Society, an 
organization which has for its purpose the conservation and protection 
of the American buffalo. He is, therefore, well fitted to write this story, 
which is taken from his interesting book called King of the Thundering 
Herd. 

Bennie Anderson sat on the lee side of the prairie schooner, 
watching the dancing camp fire and listening to the howling 
of the coyotes. 

Four months before, the Anderson family, consisting of Mr. 
and Mrs. Anderson, Thomas, a boy of nine years, and the solitary 
watcher by the camp fire, named Benjamin, aged eleven years, 
had said good-by to Indiana. 

Ill luck had always followed the Andersons in that state, and 
Bennie 's father had said that perhaps a change of scene would 
also change their luck. So nearly all their belongings had been 
packed into the canvas-covered wagon, two dilapidated mules 
hitched to it, the old cow tied behind ; and with the dog following 
beneath the wagon, they had left the tumble-down cabin and 
the Indiana homestead and had started for the frontier beyond 
the Mississippi. 

Mr. Anderson was an old hunter, and as there were two 
rifles in the wagon, not to mention an old shotgun, there was 
usually plenty of fresh duck or prairie chicken to eat. Among 
the most cherished possessions was a very good field-glass, which 
had been the property of an uncle who had used it in the Civil 
War. This glass proved to be their best ally upon the great 
plains, where the stretches of smooth land are so vast, and the 
distances so great, that the naked eye is wholly inadequate to 
the demands made upon it, especially if one wants to see all the 
wild life upon the plains, as Bennie did. 

26 



THE THUNDERING HERD 27 

The modest Anderson caravan had not journeyed far into the 
Missouri Bad Lands, at right angles to the old Oregon Trail, 
which so many adventurers had followed before and have since, 
before the signs of buffalos became plentiful, although the boys 
did not at first recognize them. It was not until late September 
or early October, however, that the Andersons saw buffalos in 
any numbers. Hitherto, there had been an occasional lonely 
bison feeding in some coulee, but they now began to see them in 
larger numbers. 

The jolting wagon by this time had pounded its weary way 
over the plains and through the Bad Lands and the desert-like 
portions of the prairies, where there was nothing but sagebrush 
and sprawling cactus, until they had reached a point near the 
northwest corner of Missouri. 

It was not an infrequent sight to see upon the slope of a distant 
swell a dozen buffalos peacefully grazing like domestic cattle. 
They usually made off at a slow trot whenever the wagon got 
within a few hundred yards of them. Not knowing much of the 
habits or disposition of the bison, Mr. Anderson said that they 
would not attempt to kill any at present, even for meat, as deer 
and other game were plentiful. 

So they journeyed along without molesting the bison that 
they saw, satisfied to let them alone, if they were in turn let 
alone. This amicable arrangement might have held good until 
they reached their journey's end, in the heart of Kansas, had 
not something happened that made the killing of a few bison 
the price of safety to the party. This was an event that no one 
of the emigrants ever forgot as long as he lived, and an incident 
that filled one night as full of excitement and peril as it could 
well hold. 

They had been traveling for two days over a nearly unbroken 
stretch of slightly undulating prairie. The summer sun had 
baked the earth till it was hard and lifeless. Every tuft of grass 
was burned to a crisp. Even the sagebrush that grew in all the 
sandy spots seemed parched by the shimmering heat. The 



28 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

sky was a bright, intense blue, and each night the sunset was 
red and the afterglow partially obscured by a cloud of dust. 

The watercourses and the cottonwoods were half a day's 
journey apart, and an intolerable thirst was over all the land- 
scape. 

The second day of this trying desert-like prairie stretch of 
their journey was just drawing to a close when they noted upon 
the northern horizon what at first seemed to be a cloud of smoke. 

At the thought of a prairie fire upon such a parched area 
as these plains, a horrible fear seized upon the little party, and 
Mr. Anderson hurried to the top of the nearest swell to learn 
if their worst fears were true. 

On mounting the eminence, he discovered that the cloud 
extended from the east to the west as far as the eye could reach. 
It certainly was not smoke, but each minute it grew in density 
and volume, like a menace, something dark and foreboding that 
would engulf them. 

Presently as he watched, he thought he heard a low rumbling, 
like the first indistinct sounds of thunder, and putting his ear 
to the ground in Indian fashion, he could hear the rumbling 
plainly. It was like the approach of a mighty earthquake, only 
it traveled much more slowly — like the rumbling of the surf, 
like the voice of the sea, or the hurricane, heard at a distance. 

Again the anxious man scanned the dark, ominous-looking 
cloud, that now belted half the horizon, and this time he thought 
that he discerned dark particles like tiny dancing motes in the 
cloud. Then as he gazed, the specks grew larger, like gnats or 
small flies, close to where the horizon line should have been. Here 
and there were clouds of the dark specks, like swarms of busy 
insects. But what a myriad there was! In some places they 
fairly darkened the cloud. 

Then in a flash the truth dawned upon the incredulous man, 
leaving him gasping with astonishment and quaking with fear. 

All these tiny specks upon the horizon line were buffalos. A 
mighty host stretching from east to west as far as the eye could 



THE THUNDERING HERD 29 

reach, and to the north God only knew how far. Like an 
avalanche that rushes upon its way, unmindful of man and 
human life, pitiless as fate, and as remorseless as all the primeval 
forces of nature, the thundering herd was rolling down upon 
them. 

For a few seconds he gazed, fascinated and held to the spot 
by his very fear and the wonder of it all. Darker and darker 
grew the cloud. Plainer and plainer the headlong rush of the 
countless host was seen, while the rumbling of their thousands 
of hoofs, which at first had been like distant thunder, now 
swelled to the volume of a rapidly approaching hurricane. The 
solid earth was felt to vibrate and rock, to tremble and quake. 

Mr. Anderson waited to see no more, but fled back to his 
family, whose escape from this sea of hoofs now seemed to him 
almost hopeless. The boys hurried to meet him, their faces pale 
with fright, for even the rest of the family now realized that 
some great danger was swooping down upon them. 

Mr. Anderson made his plan of escape as he ran. To think of 
fleeing was out of the question. Their slow-moving schooner 
would be overtaken in almost no time. There was no canyon, 
no coulee, in which to take refuge ; no butte to which they might 
flee; not even a tree or a rock behind which they might crouch, 
and thus be partly shielded. Out in the open the danger must 
be met, with nothing but the shelter of the wagon to keep off 
the grinding hoofs, and only the muzzles of their three guns to 
stand between them and annihilation when the crash came. 

Hastily they turned the wagon about, with its hind end 
toward the herd. The mules were unhitched from the pole and 
each hitched to the front wheel. A rope was also passed through 
the side strap of the harness of each mule, and he was fastened 
to the hind wheel of the wagon, so that he could not swing about 
and be across the tide when this sea of buffalos should strike 
them. This kept the mules with their heels toward the herd, thus 
securing the additional aid of a mule's heels on guard at each 
side of the wagon c Old Brindle was secured to the pole of the 



30 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

wagon, where the mules had been. The wheels were blocked. 
What furniture the wagon contained was piled up behind to 
help make a barricade. When all had been made as snug as 
possible, the family crawled under the wagon and awaited 
results. The muzzles of the two rifles were held in readiness for 
an emergency at either side of the wagon, while Mrs. Anderson 
had the shotgun in readiness to reinforce the garrison, should 
they need more loaded weapons at a moment's notice. 

Nearer and nearer came the thundering herd, while the vibra- 
tions in the solid earth grew with each passing second. The 
clouds of dust shut out the light of the setting sun and made a 
dark pall over all the landscape, like the descending of the mantle 
of death. 

Bennie gritted his teeth together and tried hard not to let 
the muzzle of his rifle shake as he pointed it out between the 
spokes of the hind wheel on his side of the wagon. 

On came the terrible battalions of galloping hoofs, the mas- 
sive heads and black beards of mighty bulls glowering through 
the clouds of dust. Each second the pounding of their hoofs 
swelled in volume, and each second the vibrations of the solid 
earth became more pronounced. Like the smoke of a great con- 
flagration, the dust-clouds settled over the prairies until the 
crouching, trembling human beings, so impotent in this vast 
mad rush of wild beasts, could see the frontlets of the bulls but 
a few rods away. 

But almost before they had time to realize it, the mad, gal- 
loping, pushing, steaming, snorting herd was all about them, 
pounding by so close that the coats of the nearest bulls brushed 
the sides of the mules. 

At first they seemed to turn out a bit for the wagon, but 
presently a bunch of buffalos, more compact than the rest of 
the herd, was seen bearing down upon them as though they were 
charging the schooner, although they probably did not even 
notice it. 

"Ready with your rifle, Bennie," called Mr. Anderson, and 



THE THUNDERING HERD 



31 




father and son both cocked their guns. When the bunch was 
almost upon them, both fired, and a mighty bull fell kicking 
against the back of the wagon; but his kicks were not of long 
duration, for at this short range the rifles did fearful execution. 

There was no respite, however, for close behind the fallen bull 
came more, and Mr. Anderson reached for the shotgun, and 
piled another bull upon the first, although he had to finish him 
with a Colt 's revolver, which was destined to stand them in much 
better stead than the guns. 

It was with difficulty that the muzzle-loading rifles could be 
loaded while lying down in the cramped position under the 
wagon, but the Colt's revolver, which was a forty-four and just 
as effective at this short range as a rifle, could be readily re- 
loaded; and Mrs. Anderson kept its five chambers full. 

Old Abe, the mule upon the right side of the wagon, now 
took his turn in the fray, but a bull galloped too close to him, 
raking Abe's flank with his sharp horn. The mule let both heels 



32 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

fly, striking another bull fairly in the forehead, and felling him 
to the ground. But a buffalo's skull is as thick as a board, and 
the bull jumped up and galloped on with his fellows. 

For a few minutes the two dead bulls at the rear of the wagon 
seemed to act as a buffer, and the others parted just enough to 
graze the wagon. The mules, which brayed and kicked whenever 
the buffalos came too close, also helped, but presently another 
bunch was seen bearing down upon them. They were close 
together, and crowding, and did not seem likely to give way 
for the crouching fugitives under the wagon. 

Although Bennie and his father both fired, and Mr. Anderson 
followed up the rifle shots with both barrels from the shotgun 
and three shots from the Colt's, yet they struck the wagon with 
a terrific shock. 

There was frantic kicking and frenzied braying from both 
Abe and Ulysses, and a violent kicking and pounding in the 
wagon that seemed to be immediately over their heads. 

It was plain that instantaneous action of some kind was 
necessary if their domicile was to be saved, for one of the 
crowding bulls had been carried immediately into the wagon. 
He had become entangled in the top, and was pawing and kick- 
ing to free himself. His great head just protruded over the seat. 

Mr. Anderson reached up quickly with the Colt's and put 
an end to his kicking with two well-directed shots. 

There were now four dead bulls piled up behind the wagon 
and one inside of it, and soon the blood from their last victim 
came trickling through upon the helpless family. It was a 
gruesome position, but they could not escape it; and all were 
so glad that the blood was not their own that they did not mind. 

"We are pretty well barricaded now, Bennie," shouted Mr. 
Anderson, just making himself heard above the thunder of 
galloping hoofs. "I think we are safe. They cannot get at us 
over all that beef, and they cannot get through the side; so I 
do not see but we are secure." 



THE THUNDERING HERD 33 

" Thank God," exclaimed Mrs. Anderson, fervently, "but I 
shan't feel safe until the last buffalo has passed." 

She had barely ceased speaking when old Abe uttered a pierc- 
ing bray, in which were both terror and pain. He accompanied 
the outcry with a vicious kick, but almost immediately sank 
to the earth, kicking and pawing. It was then seen that a bull 
had ripped open the mule 's left side, giving him a mortal wound. 
His frantic kicking so endangered the cowering fugitives under 
the wagon that Mr. Anderson was obliged to shoot him. His loss 
was irreparable, and the boys whimpered softly to themselves 
as they saw their old friend stretched out dead beside the wagon. 

Old Brindle at this point became unmanageable, breaking her 
rope, so that the seething black mass swallowed her. "There 
goes old Brindle, too," sobbed Tommy. "I guess we'll starve 
now. ' ' 

Poor Shep, who had been securely tied at the forward end of 
the wagon, cowered and whimpered as though he, too, thought 
the judgment day had come, and it was his and Tommy's lot 
to comfort each other — the dog licking the boy's hands, and he 
in turn patting the dog's head. 

The loss of old Brindle and Abe proved to be the turning- 
point in the misfortunes of the Andersons, for the herd now 
parted at the barricade made by the dead buffalos, the mule, and 
the wagon, so that, although every few minutes it seemed as 
though they would be engulfed, yet the danger veered to one 
side and passed by. 

Half an hour and then an hour went by, and still there was 
no diminution of the herd. The second hour and the third 
passed, and still they came, crowding and pushing, blowing and 
snorting, steaming and reeking. 

"Won't they ever go by, father?" asked Bennie. "I should 
think there were a million of them." 

"It is the most wonderful thing that I ever saw," replied 
Mr. Anderson. "I have often heard old hunters tell about the 



34 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

countless herds of buffalos, but I had always supposed that they 
were lying. In the future I will believe anything about their 
numbers. ' ' 

At last, seeing that they were in no immediate danger, Mr. 
Anderson told the boys to go to sleep if they could, and he 
would watch. If there was any need of their help, he would 
call them. 

Accordingly, all the firearms were loaded and placed by Mr. 
Anderson, and the boys and Shep curled up near the forward 
wheels to rest. They were terribly tired, for the excitement and 
the hard work had told upon their young nerves and muscles. 

The last thing Bennie remembered was the thunder of the 
myriad hoofs and the rocking and trembling of the earth under 
him. But even these sounds soon ceased for him, and he and his 
brother slept. 

When he again opened his eyes, the sun was shining brightly, 
and the clouds of dust that had obscured the moon when he fell 
asleep had been partly dissipated. Here and there he could 
see an occasional buffalo galloping southward, but the mighty 
herd, whose numbers had seemed like the stars, was gone. 

1 'It 's the tail end of the procession, boy," called Bennie 's 
father. "The last installment went by about fifteen minutes 
ago. I did not dream that bison could be found in such numbers 
in western Missouri at the present time. I had supposed the few 
scattering head that we saw were all that were left in the 
state. ' ' 

This conclusion of Mr. Anderson's was quite right, but that 
autumn, for some unaccountable reason, the great herd had come 
down for a part of the way on the Missouri River on its southern 
migration, following the old trail of two decades before, instead 
of crossing western Nebraska and Kansas. It had been a costly 
experiment, however, for, all the way, hunters had swarmed 
upon their flanks, and they had lost thousands of head. But 
what did that matter? Their number was legion. 



THE THUNDERING HERD 35 

Notes and Questions 

When Clarence Hawkes was but eight years old, an accident necessi- 
tated the amputation of one of his legs. When he was fourteen, he lost 
the sight of both eyes. While these misfortunes prevented the boy's 
taking part in various sports and games, they did not keep him from 
what he loved best — that is, spending time in field and forest, learning 
many things about the wild creatures living there. 

1. Find and read aloud lines which describe : 

(a) the caravan. 

(b) the country through which they were passing. 

(c) the approach of the "thundering herd." 

2. Mr. Anderson compared the onrushing herd to several ominous 
sounds in nature: 

(a) "A low rumbling, like the first indistinct sounds of thunder." 
Find five other such comparisons. 

3. Clarence Hawkes has used many words in this story to give you 
the feeling of the terrific force of the oncoming herd, such as mighty, 
rumbling, rolling, swooping. Find five others. 

4. The events narrated in this story actually took plaee, it is said, in 
1871. Where was the scene of this incident? 

5. Explain in detail just how Mr. Anderson barricaded the little 
family against the rush of the buffalo. 

6. In 1923 the American Bison Society reported that there were 147 
herds in the United States, consisting of 3654 bufifalos. There were only 
eight states without buffalos, either in a semi-wild condition or in 
zoological parks. Is your state one of the eight ? Write to your Secre- 
tary of State or to the American Bison Society (Address: 45 Wall 
Street, New York City) to find out how many bufifalos you have in your 
state and where they are located. 

7. Find the meaning and pronunciation of the following words in 
your Glossary: coyotes, dilapidated, ally, coulee, incredulous, butte, 
annihilation, irreparable, diminution. 

You may wish to read other chapters from The King of the Thunder- 
ing Herd. 



36 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Magazine Reading 

The author of "The Thundering Herd" contributes stories, articles, and 
verse to many magazines and newspapers. Lowell, Holmes, Longfellow, 
Emerson, Whittier, and Poe were all contributors to the magazines of 
their time. Many of the masterpieces of American literature were first 
published in magazines, and doubtless some of the poems and prose 
stories in the magazines of today will also be considered masterpieces 
in the future. 

More and more the American reader is coming to depend upon current 
periodicals for his general reading; from the large number of magazines 
now published you should choose the one that suits your particular 
interest and taste. Examine the magazines in the library and ask the 
librarian's advice as to which ones you' will be likely to find most useful 
and enjoyable. You are probably familiar with some or all of the 
following: St. Nicholas; Outdoor Life; Time; The Saturday Evening 
Post; The National Geographic Magazine; The New Outlook; Nature 
Magazine; Good Housekeeping; Scientific American; Popular Mechan- 
ics; The World's Work; The Literary Digest. What others do you read? 

Perhaps you have had the experience of reading a story in some 
magazine, and later, when you wished to refer to it, of being unable to 
recall in which number or in which magazine you read it. The Readers' 
Guia\e to Periodical Literature will help you to locate a story, poem, or 
article by title, author, or subject. It will also be helpful in showing you 
what has appeared in current magazines by certain authors or on certain 
subjects. Ask your teacher or the librarian to show you how to use The 
'Readers' Guide. 



OVIS POLI, THE GEEAT HOKNED-SHEEP* 

Theodore Roosevelt, Jr. 

The main objective of the Roosevelt brothers was to reach the highest 
mountain point of Pamir, in Turkestan, where lives the ovis poli, "a wild 
sheep which is conceded by sportsmen the world over to be one of the 
finest of all game trophies. He represents the elder branch of the family 
of which our bighorn is a member, and makes our bighorn look, in com- 
parison, a small animal. He lives in the barren, treeless Pamirs. He was 
originally discovered by Marco Polo [an Italian traveler to the Orient] 
about 1256 ; hence the name." 

We stayed four days at Kashgar and gathered ourselves for 
the last effort of the trip — our hunt for ovis poli. Round the 
horns of this great sheep, story and legend have clustered for 
ages. Forgotten for six hundred years after Marco Polo first 
noticed him, he was rediscovered in the late thirties of the last 
century by a British officer. Since then he has been the lodestar 
of big-game hunters. We could get but little late news of him. 
Indeed, many of those best posted considered the ovis poli nearly 
extinct. 

With our pony caravan there were, as usual, two Chinese 
soldiers. Our head pony man was a draggled old gray-bearded 
Beg. He wore a long, faded wrapper, which flapped around his 
thin shanks in the bitter mountain wind like a torn sail round 
spars in a gale. He fluttered along behind the caravan like a 
piece of paper in a windy city street. Last, but not least, was 
Rah Tai Koon Beg, a fat, bearded, jolly fellow, with a bright 
blue coat belted in with a yellow scarf. Yery often he rode with 
us and carried one of the rifles. The rifle-sling was not long 
enough to suit his figure, and the rifie was half hidden in the 
clothes and fat that covered his broad back. 

*From East of the Sun and West of the Moon by Theodore and Kermit Roose- 
velt. Copyright, 1926, Charles Scribner's Sons. Used by permission of the 
authors and publishers. Abridged. 

37 



38 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

For a couple of days we traveled through the plains. We 
passed from oasis to oasis. Burned and forbidding, the desert 
lay between. There was an endless succession of scrub bushes 
and sun-scorched rock, with dust-devils dancing between. Time 
and again we passed small oases on which the desert was march- 
ing. On their outskirts were houses half buried in sand, and 
dead trees whose gray, gnarled upper limbs alone stuck out of 
sand dunes. Closer in, where the sand had not yet conquered, 
were half-submerged fields and partially covered trees whose 
tops were still green with leaves. 

On the third day we turned due south. Soon we were among 
the foothills. The plains of Turkestan were behind us. The 
hills were more than welcome after the long weeks we had spent 
in the plains. Bare and red, they suggested the buttes of Colo- 
rado. We marched up the bed of a rocky stream, the trail 
weaving from side to side over numerous fords. About noon we 
saw two men approaching on horseback, who proved to be Nadir 
Beg and the mail-runner from India. 

Nadir Beg was the native who was to act as a guide for the 
ovis poli country. He was an important citizen of the town of 
Tashkurgan, a fine-looking man with a light complexion, a 
black beard, and a hawk-like nose. 

That evening we camped by a little Kirghiz settlement on a 
small plain in the valley. The principal building was a mud- 
walled square around a great cottonwood tree. In it was bi- 
vouacked a caravan from Tashkurgan on its way to Kashgar. 
The men were good-looking, lean fellows and very friendly. 

Around the camp fire we worked out our plans for the poli 
hunting. Nadir Beg said that though goolja (rams) were 
scarce, he had seen a fine head shot by a Kirghiz near Subaski 
the previous winter. We accordingly decided to try that point 
first. 

For the next two days we pushed on up the river. At times 
the trail was very bad. It wound along the steep sides of the 
mountain. The valley narrowed into a gorge through which the 
stream rushed so rapidly that fording was very difficult. A small 



OVIS POLI, THE GREAT HORNED-SHEEP 39 

boy, perhaps fourteen years old, led the lead pony of our cara- 
van. At one of the fords he fell in, but was pulled out by Nadir 
Beg and some of the others. After the water had been tilted out 
of him, he seemed all right. His clothes, however, could not be 
worn wet in the bitter cold ; so he was fitted out from various sur- 
plus stores. As he was by all odds the smallest of the party, the 
fit was far from good. The final touch to his attire was given by 
an enormous pair of knee-high boots, which made him look, as 
he paddled along, like the Puss-in-Boots of the fairy tale. 

As we wound our way along, we met an occasional caravan 
moving toward the plains. The men were generally so bundled 
up that they looked like animated bolsters. A number of times 
we noticed poli skins, either on their saddles or covering their 
bales. This encouraged us very much. When we questioned them, 
they told us that these were the skins of female sheep from both 
the Chinese and the Russian Pamirs. 

Sometimes we came on great woolly camels, which lifted their 
heads from their grazing and eyed us incuriously. They were in 
splendid shape, fat, and strong. It was a constant source of 
wonder to us that these great animals were able to keep in such 
good condition feeding on the withered bushes and scant dry 
grass of the country. 

Here we saw a type of shelter we had not seen before, a mud 
and stone yourte. The bottom was built of rough rocks, the top 
was of dry clay. Generally they clustered in the lee of some 
large rocks, like chickens around a hen. Now it had begun to be 
bitterly cold. The snow lay thick on the mountains. Snow flurries 
and sleet storms swept across the valley nearly every afternoon. 
The wind blew with gusty fury. 

It was after dark when we reached the small settlement that 
goes by the name of Bulun. In the gloom we saw the shadowy 
shape of a square, half-ruined mud fort with a few yourtes 
clustered about it. After much chattering of shadowy figures 
that flitted through the dark, we got off, and were shown into one 
of the yourtes to await the arrival of the caravan now well 
behind us. 



OVIS POLI, THE GREAT HORNED-SHEEP 41 

Inside the yourte a Kirghiz family was gathered around the 
fire, which cast a glow rather than a light upon them. There were 
the man, his wife, a rather handsome, worn woman, and three 
brown, bright-eyed children, who sat as quiet as mice. The air 
was so filled with smoke that it was almost impossible to keep 
our eyes open. This is the way these Kirghiz must spend fully 
twelve to fourteen hours a day through many of the winter 
months. There was neither moon nor light in the yourte to do 
anything. 

We and our men crowded in, completely filling the yourte. 
We were very grateful for the shelter from the wind and the 
comparative warmth from the huddled humanity and the tiny 
fire. When the caravan arrived some hours later, we were sorry 
to have to go out to our flimsy canvas tents. 

Next morning we were up at daylight. The lake was cupped 
by snow-covered hills. Frost lay heavily on the brown sparse 
grass. Suddenly, through a gap in the mountain wall, a great 
level ray of sunlight fell, painting the low-lying clouds gold. A 
flock of ducks flew over, their wings flickering in the golden morn- 
ing light. 

We marched to the Little Kara Kill, where, after talking with 
the natives, we decided to stop and hunt for a day. The village 
of Little Kara Kul consisted of a stone kraal in which were three 
or four yourtes. We were now in the land of the yak, and the 
great shaggy beasts grunted and shuffled around our tent all 
night. 

A yak is not an uncomfortable animal to ride, but patience is 
necessary. He goes very slowly, though his gait is reasonably 
smooth, and he always gets there. Also, he goes over the most 
impossible country imaginable about as fast as he goes over level 
ground. He plods unconcernedly through snow up a boulder- 
strewn slope of forty-five degrees. He is guided with a rope 
through his nostrils, and steers like a dray. He blows like a por- 
poise, keeps his mouth open a large part of the time, and lolls a 
long ant-eater-like tongue from side to side. 

When we got up next morning, it was bitterly cold. The sky 



42 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

was the monotonous gray of winter. Everything was white from 
a light snow. After a hurried breakfast, we started for the 
hunting-grounds, mounted on yaks. Their black woolly backs 
were incrusted with frost. On the first lake we passed, a flock of 
geese settled, spiraling down from the sky with a musical honk- 
ing. They stood in a row on a sand bar like sentinels. The next 
lake was frozen except at one end. In the open water were 
myriads of ducks and geese. As we came up, they arose into the 
air with a sound like ocean surf on a shingle bench. 

It was typical Pamir country, sandy valleys, dotted with tufts 
of dried grass, and snow-covered hills and mountains. For so 
barren a country there was a surprising amount of wild life. We 
saw snow-buntings, pigeons, vultures, and hawks. There were 
many tracks across the snow. 

As we were plodding along, Khalil, a local hunter, jumped off 
his yak, calling out "Goolja!" and pointing to a slope some six 
hundred yards away. Along it were running two small poli rams, 
with horns about twenty inches long. They were too small to 
shoot, but it gave us a thrill to see the ovis poli in the flesh for 
the first time. Though they had seen us, they seemed but little 
frightened, and, cantering gently up the slope, disappeared over 
the crest. They were very handsome with their gray backs and 
white chests and legs. 

Shortly after this we separated, Kermit going to the left and I 
to the right. Only a few minutes after I left him, I saw some 
animals along the rocks about seven hundred yards away. After 
studying them with the field-glasses, I found them to be six 
female poli with four young. Our first care was for the males, 
so we left them undisturbed, and hunted up a nullah to the one 
side. We found nothing and worked our way back in the hope 
that some male poli had joined the females. None had, and, as 
we wished to hunt the country beyond, we walked toward them 
over a great snow bank. They soon saw us and cantered grace- 
fully away over the mountains. We then plodded through the 
deep snow to the crest of a saddle. Again we saw females, but no 
males. Night fell, as it falls in the mountains, suddenly. The 



OVIS POLI, THE GREAT HORNED-SHEEP 43 

shadows lengthened, and we found ourselves in the cold darkness. 
Far across the valley white mountains still blazed in the golden 
light. Kermit and I met in the valley and rode into camp to- 
gether. As we passed the lakes, we heard the quacking of the 
ducks who had settled there again. 

On the whole we were not discouraged by the day's work, for 
though we had seen no good heads, we had seen enough females 
and young to make us reasonably certain that there were some 
mature males near by. That evening, after talking with the na- 
tives in camp, we decided that the ravines we had hunted that 
day contained no mature rams and agreed to move to Subashi the 
next day. Accordingly, we sent a native forward that evening to 
look the country over with a pair of our binoculars and to report 
when we arrived there. 

We got to Subashi about one o 'clock the following day. It was 
a valley with a little stream in the center from which the land 
sloped up rather abruptly to surrounding hills. The ground was 
sandy, the vegetation sparse, but camels, sheep, and yaks seemed 
to be able to eke out a reasonable existence there. As it was 
evidently a place where there was no room for two separate guns, 
we decided to hunt together. Twice on our way up the valley we 
saw herds of female and young poli on the hillside. 

Soon we met the ' ' jungli wallah ' ' sent out the night before. He 
was in a state of great excitement. He told us that he had found 
a herd of eight goolja. We were delighted, and pushed forward 
cautiously to a point where the nullah forked. With our field- 
glasses we could just see them lying among some rocks toward 
the end of the right branch. The ravine, where the poli were, 
ended in some stiff-looking mountains. The left fork, slightly 
longer, ended near a divide beyond which lay the Russian Pamirs. 
Between the two branches was a high ridge of slide rock covered 
with snow. 

Two stalks were possible, neither good; one over the top of 
the mountain to the extreme right, the other up the left nullah 
and over the dividing ridge. We chose the latter, for we were 
afraid we should not have time to complete the former. After 



44 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

riding a short way up the nullah, we left our horses and started 
climbing. As we approached the foot of the hill, a handsome red 
fox jumped up and trotted off. We wanted it for our collection, 
but did not shoot at it for fear of scaring off our poli. 

The hill was a steep one. We zigzagged to and fro, floundering 
in snow and slipping on rock. The altitude was high, over 16,000 
feet, and it cut our breath badly. At last, after an hour and a 
half of hard work, we reached the summit and peered over. To 
our sorrow we found that the poli had moved and were slowly 
filing up a shoulder nearly eight hundred yards away. They 
were not frightened; they were apprehensive. As it was now 
four-thirty, and there was no chance to try another stalk, we 
settled ourselves on the ridge for what Rahima called a ' ' lookum 
see." Through the field-glasses and telescopes we could see the 
sheep plainly. They were very handsome as they stepped deli- 
cately along, now stooping to nibble a tuft of grass, now halting 
to glance around and sniff the wind. Occasionally one would 
clamber on a rock and stand sentinel-like, his head thrown back 
until the massive spiral horns seemed to rest upon his shoulders. 
Standing thus, they looked like the very spirit of the mountains. 
We studied them carefully. They were eight in number. Six 
had horns about forty-five inches in length. Two were splendid 
animals with horns measuring fifty or better. 

A knife-like wind had risen, and we were getting the full force 
of it. To make the climb we had stripped off our heavy coats. We 
were soaked with sweat and were soon chilled through and 
through. Everyone was shivering. It was hard to hold the tele- 
scope steadily enough to see the game. Kermit and I agreed that 
if we had had to shoot then, we would have been as likely to hit 
the moon as a poli. In spite of this, we stayed until almost dark 
in order to mark down where our game stopped. 

Through the dusk we plodded down the hill. When we reached 
the foot, we saw down the valley the red glow of some camp fires. 
This at once explained the behavior of the rams. Our caravan 
had moved up to where the valley forked, and we were in plain 
sight of the hills where the poli had been. Cold, weary, and rather 



OVIS POLI, THE GREAT HORNED-SHEEP 45 

disconsolate, we made our way to camp, determined to start 
again early next morning. 

All night long the wind blew down the valley, singing and 
whistling around our camp. Our light canvas tent bellied in the 
wind, and time and again we thought it would blow over. The 
cold from the ground came right through our bedding rolls. 
Toward midnight it began to snow, and fine pow T dery flakes 
whirled in on us. 

At four-thirty a. m. we got up. The snow had stopped, but the 
whole country was sheeted in white. We pulled on with numb 
fingers the few clothes we had taken off, gulped down some coffee, 
and started up the nullah where we had last seen the animals. 
Soon day began to break. A cold, steely-gray sky, heavy with 
unshed snows, arched over us. We dismounted and walked, 
partly from caution, partly because it was too cold to ride, even 
clothed as we were. 

About six o'clock we saw our game. Unfortunately, one of 
the men had turned a bend of the ravine too quickly, and they 
had glimpsed him. Again they were not frightened, but only 
apprehensive, and they made off slowly across the end of the 
valley and up the steep slope of the mountain. We lay still and 
watched. At last they breasted the crest, showed for a moment 
against the sky, and, one by one, disappeared on the other side. 

As soon as they were out of sight, we started to follow them. 
One of the Kirghiz was sent back with our yaks, while Kermit, 
Rahima, Khalil, and I tramped ahead. At first the way was 
only moderately steep. Then it changed, and we had to climb. 
We floundered through snowdrifts waist deep on slopes where 
it was difficult to believe snow could rest. We climbed over shoul- 
ders of rock where the loose shale under its white covering made 
every step a slip. 

The altitude rapidly increased, and soon we were at least 
17,000 feet high. We snatched, gasping, at every mouthful of 
thin air. When we stopped to rest, I threw myself flat, though 
Kermit only seemed to need to lean on his stick. About eight 
we reached the crest. Our hopes were high, for we felt from the 



46 



ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 




way the poli were traveling they might be on just the other 
side. Very cautiously we worked our way up to some jutting 
rocks and looked over. We saw nothing. By this time the sun 
was shining. After looking around for ten or fifteen minutes, the 
shikaries decided they had gone beyond the next range, and 
suggested that we start down the slope. Fortunately, at this 
moment Kermit picked them up with the field-glasses. They 
were on the opposite side of the valley, perhaps a mile away, 
lying on a patch of snow. Had we gone down the slope, they 
surely would have seen us and run off. 

With the wind as it was, only one stalk was possible. This en- 
tailed walking about five miles as the crow flies, during which we 
crossed two mountains and numerous spurs. The stalk began at 
once. We struggled across snowbanks many feet deep; we zig- 
zagged over rock drifts ; we stumbled through corries where the 
snow concealed deep holes between boulders into which we fell. 
We climbed hand over hand up rock shoulders. At one place 
Kermit and I tobogganed down a deep snow slope and nearly 
started a snowslide. 



OVIS POLI, THE GREAT HORNED-SHEEP 47 

The sun on the snow had made a heavy mist that hung curtain- 
wise across the valley. At last we reached a little ravine flanked 
by a steep ridge from which we felt we would get a shot at our 
game. Up the slope we toiled, looking about for the poli. It was 
a hard task, for we had to snatch moments when gaps occurred in 
the mist as it rolled by before the wind. We had sweated heavily, 
and our clothes were drenched. Now the knife-like wind cut us 
to the bone. More than six hours had passed while we were 
climbing. In the beginning I had consistently brought up the 
rear of the column, but toward the end, one of the shikaries and 
the "jungli wallahs" dropped behind me. 

After watching carefully for about twenty minutes, we made 
sure the rams were not where we had last seen them. As Rahima 
put it, we were ' ' very mad going, ' ' for we had labored mightily 
on this stalk. Suddenly the fog began to thin, shredded away, 
and we saw the sheep opposite us in the Russian Pamirs. They 
were perhaps seven hundred yards distant, but, as we were in 
plain sight of a snowdrift, we lay quite still. We finally were 
able to crawl cautiously out of sight. We started at once for a 
point near our quarry. The clouds began to bank over us in real 
earnest. 

When we reached a position somewhere between three or four 
hundred yards from the rams, we realized that a snowstorm, 
sweeping up the valley, would be on us in a few minutes, and 
make shooting impossible. It was now or never. I had won the 
first shot; so settling myself very carefully in the snow, I fired 
at the animal which seemed to me to present the best target. 
Kermit immediately followed suit. At the crack of the rifles the 
rams were up and away, but we thought our shots had hit. For- 
tunately they did not know where we were, and so headed back 
in our general direction toward the Chinese Pamirs. 

Running as hard as we could over the snow, we came to a point 
which would give us a clear view of them when they passed. I 
had snatched off my gloves to get a better grip on the rifle, and 
now my hands were so cold that I could not feel the trigger. 
Suddenly the sheep came into view from behind a huge buttress 



48 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

of rock. They were in single file, the big rams leading. They were 
about two hundred fifty yards away, going at a plunging canter 
through the drifts. Their great spiral horns flared out mag- 
nificently, their heads held high. Every line was clear cut 
against the white of the snow. 

We began firing at once at the two leaders. First one and then 
the other staggered and lost his place in the line. Though hard 
hit they pulled themselves together, joined the herd, and all dis- 
appeared over a near-by ridge. Clutching our rifles, we stumbled 
after them. When we reached the trail, we found bloodstains. 
We put every ounce of strength we had into the chase, for these 
were the trophies we had traveled 12,000 miles to get. The going 
was very bad. Every few steps we floundered armpit deep in 
snow. Try as we would, we could not make time. Suddenly the 
wind rose, snow began to drift down, and the trail was blotted out 
in the swirling white of the storm. We could do no more and had 
to give up and make for camp. 

Working our way down to the valley, we found our yaks, so 
frosted with snow that they looked like animated birthday cakes. 
The two native hunters with them had seen the rams cross the 
ridge and were confident they were mortally wounded. They felt 
sure they would find them next day if the storm did not obliterate 
their trail. This was but poor comfort, as a blizzard was then 
raging; and even if we were lucky enough to find a sheep, the 
wolves would have destroyed the body skins. From the sports- 
man's standpoint, of course, the great horns are the trophy, but 
for the mounting in the museum, the whole skin is necessary. 

It was growing late. Thoroughly tired out, we rode back to 
camp. The snow drifted in stinging particles against our faces. 
After as hot a supper as we could get, we rolled up in our bed- 
ding. Storm or shine, we made up our minds to be off early next 
morning to the point where we had last seen our poli. 

In the gray dawn we were up again. The storm had blown over 
during the night. Stars were glittering coldly over the white 
mountains. On our grunting yaks we plodded up the valley to 
the scene of yesterday's stalk. When we arrived, the sun was 



OVIS POLI, THE GREAT HORNED-SHEEP 49 

just rising. Its rays, as they came through the mountain clefts, 
struck the snow slantwise and gave it a queer, unreal, coppery 
glow. The wind had blown much of last night 's fall clear of the 
mountain slope in front of us. There we could see fragments of 
the poli trail, which led up and over the crest. 

The one thing to do was to follow the trail. Here we struck an 
unexpected snag. Two of the three Kirghiz with us said that 
the slope ahead was too dangerous to climb, because we would 
almost certainly be caught in a snowslide. As these men had had 
a hard time the previous day, we felt that in this case their wish 
was father to their thought. Though the mountain looked steep 
and high, we insisted that the climb could be made. 

Rahima Loon was really tired ; so we left him with the yaks 
and began climbing. Our party consisted of Kermit, myself, 
Khalil, and three "jungli wallahs," one of whom was as game 
as a bantam, while the other two were sad. For four hours we 
plodded in zigzags up through the snow. It was back-breaking 
work. The trail had to be broken through drifts four to eight 
feet deep. The altitude was high, the air thin, and, when at last 
we panted to the top, we looked as if we had been in a Turkish 
bath. 

On the other side of the ridge stretched a wide valley. It was 
seamed with rocky spurs from the surrounding mountains. The 
snow lay thick and undisturbed, for this side was sheltered from 
the wind which swept the slope up which we had climbed. We 
could see no tracks, though we searched the country with our 
field-glasses for a long while. The animals might be lying dead 
behind any one of a thousand rocks, or be covered with snow. 

The wind blew colder and colder. Even the Kirghiz huddled 
shivering in the lee of some rocks. Apparently the poli were 
hopelessly lost. Of the party, all shared our view but the cheerful 
1 ' jungli wallah. ' ' He said he thought he stood a chance of find- 
ing them by circling back and up the valley into which we were 
looking. By so doing he could look up the ravines that ran down 
from the mountains. He said also that he hoped to mark them 
by wolf -tracks. 



50 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

As there seemed little else to do, we told him to go ahead, 
though we had little faith in the result. Tramping down the slopes 
again, we reached camp late in the afternoon, very downhearted. 

The "jungli wallah" followed out his plan. He went up the 
other valley, and, with some field-glasses we had lent him, studied 
the country. He saw seven wolves near the head of a small ra- 
vine and knew at once that one of our rams lay there. Going 
there he found not one, but two. The sheep had lain down close 
together after passing the ridge, and had died during the night. 
They were the two leaders and had fine heads. The horns of one 
measured fifty-one and a half inches, and the other forty-nine 
and a half. He brought them into camp late in the evening. We 
were delighted. They were our first poli. 

Notes and Questions 

The Roosevelt brothers, interested in natural science since childhood, 
had always had an ambition to make an expedition to Central Asia, where 
the ovis poli lives. The opportunity came, when in 1925 the Field 
Museum of Natural History in Chicago financed the expedition which 
was led by Theodore and Kermit Roosevelt. This particular chapter, 
chosen from their book East of the Sun and West of the Moon, is written 
by Theodore Roosevelt, Jr., and tells you what success they had in secur- 
ing specimens for the museum and scientific data for the further study 
of natural science. 

1. Try to answer each one of these questions without referring to 
your book. If you have read the story carefully, you will have no 
difficulty in recalling the facts. 

(a) Why is the yak used as a beast of burden in the Pamir 
country ? 

(b) What kind of homes do the natives of the Pamir country 
live in? 

(c) How large were the first two poli that were captured? 

2. Theodore Roosevelt, Jr., made the following statement: "Though 
hunting in itself is great sport, without the scientific aspect as well it 
loses much of its charm." Explain the author's meaning in your own 
words. Give an instance in this story in which a member of this party 
refrained from shooting because the animal would not make a good 
museum specimen. 



OVIS POLI, THE GREAT HORNED-SHEEP 51 

3. Name at least five members of the party who were natives of the 
ovis poli countries. Choose the one you think most interesting, and 
write a brief paragraph describing his personal appearance. 

4. Describe : 

(a) The vegetation of the Pamir country. 

(b) The climate. (This expedition was made in September and 
October.) 

5. Read aloud: 

(a) The description of the yak. 

(b) A humorous sentence. 

(c) A sentence which tells you an important fact about the 
natives of the Pamir country. 

6. Explain the author's meaning in each of the following sentences: 

(a) "Time and again we passed small oases on which the desert 
was marching." 

(b) "The lake was cupped by snow-covered hills." 

(c) "The village of Little Kara Kul consisted of a stone kraal 
in which were three or four yourtes." 

(d) "At last they breasted the crest, showed for a moment 
against the sky, and one by one disappeared on the other 
side." 

7. Compare the ovis poli with the American bighorn sheep. Use ency- 
clopedias and other source books to gain accurate information. 

8. Look up in your Glossary the meaning of the following words and 
phrases : lodestar, animated bolsters, yourte, kraal, nullah, stalks, appre- 
hensive, shikaries, corries, obliterate. 

East of the Sun and West of the Moon is very interesting. You will 
probably want to read the entire book. 

Silent and Oral Reading 

Silent Reading. This book includes abundant material for both silent 
and oral reading. Some stories and poems must be read thoughtfully 
in order to gain the author's full meaning ; such reading cannot be done 
rapidly. In other selections the meaning can be grasped easily, and the 
reading may be rapid; in such cases we read mainly for the central 
thought, for the story-element. 

You read silently more often than you read aloud to others; you 
should, therefore, train yourself in rapid silent reading. Your training 
in reading has taught you to gather facts from paragraphs and to hold 



52 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

in mind the thread of the story in short selections. But you are to extend 
this power steadily until you can gather facts and follow the unfolding 
plot in selections of greater length. A number of stories in this book 
are long enough to train you to read with intelligence a newspaper, or 
a magazine article, or a book. And this is precisely the ability you most 
need, not only in preparing lessons in history and other school subjects, 
but in all your reading throughout life. As you train yourself to grasp 
swiftly and accurately the meaning of a page, you increase your ability 
to enjoy books — one of the most pleasurable things in life. 

In preparing lessons in geography and history, you have an excellent 
opportunity to learn how to gather facts quiekly from the printed page. 
These informational studies, however, do not take the place of the read- 
ing lesson in literature. They offer additional opportunity for you to 
increase your speed in rapid silent reading. 

If from time to time you record your reading speed and your thought- 
getting ability, comparing your standing with that of your classmates 
and with the standard for pupils of your age, you will be able to see 
whether or not you are making satisfactory progress. The standard for 
members of your class has been variously estimated by silent-reading 
authorities to be from 240 to 393 words per minute, depending upon the 
degree of difficulty of the selection and the purpose for which it is read. 

Oral Reading. You will wish to read aloud certain passages in most 
of the selections in your book, so as to better enjoy their beauty, their 
dramatic quality, or the forceful way in which the author has expressed 
his thoughts. Lines are listed for this purpose from time to time. Some- 
times these readings are intended for individual pupils; sometimes, 
particularly in dialogue, they are intended for groups. 

In general, all poetry should be read aloud, for much of the beauty 
of poetry lies in its rhythm. The voice, with its infinite possibilities 
of change, is an important factor in interpreting a poem. As you listen 
to your teacher or some other good reader, you will appreciate how much 
pleasure one who has learned the art of reading is able to give to others. 
Oral reading trains the ear of the listener to become sensitive to a pleas- 
ing voice, to correct pronunciation, and to distinct articulation. The 
poems in this book, if properly read, will reveal to you the beauty of 
the language that we speak, and by which we express our thoughts. 
Longfellow says, "Of equal honor with him who writes a grand poem 
is he who reads it grandly." 



TO A WATEEFOWL 
William Cullen Bryant 
If you read the note on page 54 before reading the poem, you will 
have a better understanding of and sympathy with the poet's mood. 

Whither, midst falling dew, 
While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, 
Far through their rosy depths dost thou pursue 

Thy solitary way? 

Vainly the fowler's eye 
Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, 
As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, 

Thy figure floats along. 

Seek'st thou the plashy brink 
Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide, 
Or where the rocking billows rise and sink 

On the chafed ocean-side ? 

There is a Power whose care 
Teaches thy way along that pathless coast — 
The desert and illimitable air — 

Lone wandering, but not lost. 

All day thy wings have fanned, 
At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere •, 
Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, 

Though the dark night is near. 

And soon that toil shall end; 
Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest, 
And scream among thy fellows ; reeds shall bend 

Soon o'er thy sheltered nest. 
53 



54 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Thou 'rt gone ; the abyss of heaven 
Hath swallowed up thy form ; yet on my heart 
Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given, 

And shall not soon depart. 

He who from zone to zone 
Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, 
In the long way that I must tread alone 

Will lead my steps aright. 

Notes and Questions 

When Bryant was twenty-one, he went one day to the little village of 
Plainfield, a few miles from his father's home, to see if he could find 
encouragement for opening a law office there. His biographer thus 
describes the incident as related by Bryant himself: "He felt, as he 
walked up the hills, very forlorn and desolate, indeed, not knowing what 
was to become of him in the big world. The sun had already set, and 
while he was looking upon the rosy splendor with rapt admiration, a 
solitary bird made wing along the illuminated horizon. He watched the 
lone wanderer until it was lost in the distance, asking himself whither 
it had come and to what far home it was flying. When he went to the 
house where he was to stop for the night, his mind was still full of what 
he bad seen and felt, and he wrote those lines as imperishable as our 
language, 'To a Waterfowl.' " 

William Cullen Bryant, our first great American poet, was reared 
among the rugged Berkshire Hills of western Massachusetts. The 
excellent library of his father, who was a country physician, probably 
had far more effect on the boy than the dull district school he attended. 
Bryant grew up in close touch with nature and the simple farm sur- 
roundings, and this lonely life may have tended to make him rather 
more serious and thoughtful than most boys of his age. When he was 
nine years old, he was putting his thoughts into verse in the stately 
fashion of the English poets of that time. 

1. To whom is the poet speaking in the first stanza? 

2. After a good reader has read aloud this entire poem in class, tell 
under what circumstances it was written. (See note above.) 



TO A WATERFOWL 55 

3. How does the poet speak of the sunset? What characteristics did 
Bryant show in stopping to enjoy the sunset and to watch the bird? 
Describe the appearance of the bird against the sky. 

4. What words in the fourth stanza emphasize the thought that there 
is no path or road for the bird to follow through the air ? 

5. What comparison does Bryant make between his life and the flight 
of the bird? 

The Lyric 

"To a Waterfowl" is a lyrical poem. Since many of the poems in 
"The World of Nature" are lyrics, it will be well for you to keep in 
mind some of the distinguishing characteristics of this form of poetry. 
The lyric is a poem having a song-like quality. It takes its name from 
the lyre, a harp played by the ancient Greeks to accompany their songs. 
The lyric does not tell a story as do some poems. It is the poet's ex- 
pression of an emotion such as love, joy, sorrow. A great lyric not only 
expresses the poet's feeling, but it has the power to make us feel. We 
learn through it to feel tenderness, or pity, or sorrow, or happiness. 

"To a Waterfowl" is a true lyric. What feeling caused Bryant to 
write these lines? Other well-known lyrics by Bryant are "Robert of 
Lincoln," a poem in which he gives us a glimpse of his quiet humor; 
"March," "The Gladness of Nature," and "The Yellow Violet," poems 
in which he expresses joy at the return of spring; "The Death of the 
Flowers," a poem that commemorates the death of the poet's sister; 
and "To a Fringed Gentian," a poem of hope. 

As nature is a favorite theme with poets, you will, no doubt, meet 
many lovely lyrics in your magazine reading. 

Newspaper Reading 

William Cullen Bryant, as editor of the New York Evening Post, 
influenced the thinking of a large circle of readers. Since that time the 
newspaper has constantly grown in power, until today it is one of the 
important factors in American life and education. 

Bring to class copies of some local newspaper and show that there 
is a regular place for general news, editorials, society news, sports, 
market reports, jokes, cartoons, weather reports, and advertisements; 
of what advantage to the busy reader is a definite place in the paper 
for each of these? Headlines in large type call attention to the story, 



56 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

and leads in smaller type directly under the headlines give a brief 
summary of the story. How do these, also, help to save the reader's 
time? 

When was the first newspaper started in your community ? Have you 
seen copies of newspapers printed one hundred years ago or printed 
during the Civil War? If you can, bring to class copies of old-time 
newspapers and compare them with those of today. 

Keep a class scrapbook for current events and for interesting news- 
paper mention of literary men and women and their works. Do you 
have a regular time in your school for reporting on current events ? 
Bring to class clippings from current newspapers that refer to stories, 
authors, or characters found in your text such as Rip Van Winkle, 
Evangeline, Kipling, van Dyke, etc. 

Read again the discussion of "What Is Literature?" pages 9 and 10. 
Is a newspaper article a true example of literature? What is the chief 
value of newspapers ? 



TAMPA EOBINS* 

Sidney Lanier 

The robin laughed in the orange tree : 

1 ' Ho, windy North, a fig for thee ; 

While breasts are red and wings are bold 

And green trees wave us globes of gold, 
Time 's scythe shall reap but bliss for me — 
Sunlight, song, and the orange tree. 

"Burn, golden globes in leafy sky, 
My orange planets; crimson I 
Will shine and shoot among the spheres 
(Blithe meteor that no mortal fears) 

And thrill the heavenly orange tree 

With orbits bright of minstrelsy. 

♦From Poems of Sidney Lanier, copyright 1884, lSDl, by Mary D. Lanier 
published by Charles Scribner's Sons. 



TAMPA ROBINS 57 

"If that I hate wild winter's spite — 
The gibbet trees, the world in white, 
The sky but gray wind over a grave — 
Why should I ache, the season's slave? 

I '11 sing from the top of the orange tree : 

'Gramercy, winter's tyranny.' 

' ' I '11 south with the sun, and keep my clime ; 
My wing is king of the summer time ; 
My breast to the sun his torch shall hold ; 
And I '11 call down through the green and gold : 

1 Time, take thy scythe, reap bliss for me ; 

Bestir thee under the orange tree. ' ' ' 

Notes and Questions 

Sidney Lanier (1842-1881) is one of the Southern poets, having been 
born in Macon, Georgia. The home life of Lanier and his brother was 
a very happy one, because the boys were both talented musicians. 
Sidney Lanier showed remarkable ability in music at an early age and 
was able to play almost any kind of musical instrument. In the little 
parlor of the Lanier home the neighbors and friends gathered in the 
evenings to enjoy the impromptu musical entertainments given by the 
boys, their mother accompanying them on the piano. 

1. Locate Tampa, Florida, on your map. If you were not told the 
name of the bird, what lines would tell you that the robin is meant? 
Why is Time described as carrying a scythe? Name the things that 
mean bliss to the robin. 

2. How does the robin feel toward winter? Explain the meaning of 
the line, "My wing is king of the summer time." 



yf ■ 



- , y / 





THE EEDWING 

Bliss Carman 

I hear you, Brother, I hear you, 
Down in the alder swamp, 
Springing your woodland whistle 
To herald the April pomp ! 

First of the moving vanguard, 
In front of the spring you come, 
"Where flooded waters sparkle 
And streams in the twilight hum. 

You sound the note of the chorus 
By meadow and woodland pond, 
Till, one after one up-piping, 
A myriad throats respond. 

I see you, Brother, I see you, 
With scarlet under your wing, 

58 



THE REDWING 59 

Flash through the ruddy maples, 
Leading the pageant of spring. 

Earth has put off her raiment 
Wintry and worn and old, 
For the robe of a fair young sibyl, 
Dancing in green and gold. 

Notes and Questions 

Bliss Carman, a Canadian poet, made his greatest appeal through his 
lyrics, interpreting the beauty and wonders of the nature world. He 
was no mere landscape painter, but translated and interpreted for us 
as only a poet can whose feeling for nature is keen and deep. Mr. 
Carman, whose birth month was April, sang much of the early spring, 
and his songs were always new, fresh, and spontaneous, never mo- 
notonous. 

1. Read again "The Lyric," page 55, and be able to prove that "The 
Redwing" is or is not a nature lyric. 

2. Who is the speaker in this poem? Whom does he address as 
"Brother"? What is "the moving vanguard" of spring in your locality? 

3. Describe the redwing so accurately that one could recognize it 
when he sees it. Where is the redwing most often seen? 

4. Name the thing's that go to make up the "pageant of spring." 
What other word might the poet have used instead of "sibyl"? 

Learning by Heart 

You will wish to learn by heart some of the beautiful thoughts brought 
to you by the nature poets, so that these gems may be with you always. 
The memorizing of literary selections has many distinct educational 
advantages. It enriches your vocabulary and gives you a storehouse of 
beautiful expressions. It supplies you with a number of lofty thoughts 
artistically expressed, a permanent store of literary treasures which you 
can quote at will. Memorize the poems and quotations you like best. 
Perhaps you will wish to commit to memory "The Redwing" by Bliss 
Carman. If not, choose some other poem in this group to memorize, 
and be prepared to give it in class. 



THE MOCKING BIRD 

John James Audubon 

John James Audubon, an American naturalist and ornithologist, was 
born in Louisiana. His earliest recollections were "associated with lying 
among the flowers of that fertile land, sheltered by the orange trees, and 
watching the movements of the mocking bird, 'the king of song,' dear to 
him in after life from many associations." 

It is where the great magnolia shoots up its majestic trunk, 
crowned with evergreen leaves and decorated with a thousand 
beautiful flowers that perfume the air around; where the for- 
ests and fields are adorned with, blossoms of every hue; where 
the golden orange ornaments the gardens and the groves ; where 
bignonias of various kinds interlace their climbing stems around 
the white-flowered stuartia, and mounting still higher, cover the 
summits of the lofty trees around, accompanied with innumer- 
able vines that here and there festoon the dense foliage of the 
magnificent woods, lending to the vernal breeze a slight portion 
of the perfume of their clustered flowers ; where a genial warmth 
seldom forsakes the atmosphere; where berries and fruits of 
all descriptions are met with at every step — in a word, kind 
reader, it is where Nature seems to have paused, as she passed 
over the earth, and opening her stores, to have strewed with 
unsparing hand the diversified seeds from which have sprung all 
the beautiful and splendid forms which I should in vain at- 
tempt to describe, that the mocking bird should have fixed its 
abode, there only that its wondrous song should be heard. 

But where is that favored land ? It is in that great continent 
to whose distant shores Europe has sent forth her adventurous 
sons, to wrest for themselves a habitation from the wild inhabit- 
ants of the forest, and to convert the neglected soil into fields of 



60 



THE MOCKING BIRD 61 

exuberant fertility. It is, reader, in Louisiana that these bounties 
of nature are in the greatest perfection. It is there that you 
should listen to the love song of the mocking bird, as I at this 
moment do. See how he flies round his mate, with motions as 
light as those of the butterfly ! His tail is widely expanded, he 
mounts in the air to a small distance, describes a circle, and, 
again alighting, approaches his beloved one, his eyes gleaming 
with delight, for she has already promised to be his, and his only. 
His beautiful wings are gently raised, he bows to his love, and 
again bouncing upward, opens his bill, and pours forth his 
melody, full of exultation at the conquest which he has made. 

They are not the soft sounds of the flute or the hautboy that I 
hear, but the sweeter notes of Nature's own music. The mellow- 
ness of the song, the varied modulations and gradations, the ex- 
tent of its compass, the great brilliancy of execution, are un- 
rivaled. There is probably no bird in the world that possesses all 
the musical qualifications of this king of song, who has derived 
all from Nature 's self. Yes, reader, all ! 

No sooner has he again alighted near his mate than,, as if his 
breast were about to be rent with delight, he again pours forth 
his notes with more softness and richness than before. He now 
soars higher, glancing around with a vigilant eye, to assure him- 
self that none has witnessed his bliss. When these love scenes 
are over, he dances through the air, full of animation and de- 
light, and, as if to convince his lovely mate that to enrich her 
hopes he has much more love in store, he that moment begins 
anew and imitates all the notes which Nature has imparted to the 
other songsters of the grove. 

For awhile, each long day and pleasant night are thus spent. 
A nest is to be prepared, and the choice of a place in which to lay 
it is to become a matter of mutual consideration. The orange, 
the fig, the pear tree of the gardens are inspected; the thick 
brier patches are also visited. They appear all so well suited 
for the purpose in view, and so well do the birds know that man 



62 



ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 




is not their most dangerous enemy, that, instead of retiring from 
him, they at length fix their abode in his vicinity, perhaps in the 
nearest tree to his window. Dried twigs, leaves, grasses, cotton, 
flax, and other substances are picked up, carried to a forked 
branch, and there arranged. Five eggs are deposited in due time, 
when the male, having little more to do than sing his mate to re- 
pose, attunes his pipe anew. Every now and then he spies an in- 
sect on the ground, the taste of which he is sure will please his 
beloved one. He drops upon it, takes it in his bill, beats it 
against the earth, and flies to the nest to feed and receive the 
warm thanks of his devoted female. 

When a fortnight has elapsed, the young brood demand all 
their care and attention. No cat, no vile snake, no dreaded hawk, 
is likely to visit their habitation. Indeed the inmates of the next 
house have by this time become quite attached to the lovely pair 
of mocking birds, and take pleasure in contributing to their 



THE MOCKING BIRD 63 

safety. The dewberries from the fields, and many kinds of fruit 
from the gardens, mixed with insects, supply the young as well 
as the parents with food. The brood is soon seen emerging from 
the nest, and in another fortnight, being now able to fly with 
vigor, and to provide for themselves, they leave the parent birds, 
as many other species do. . . . 

In winter nearly all the mocking birds approach the farm- 
houses and plantations, where they live about the gardens. They 
are then frequently seen on the roofs, and perched on the chim- 
ney tops; yet they always appear full of animation. While 
searching for food on the ground, their motions are light and 
elegant, and they frequently open their wings as butterflies do 
when basking in the sun, moving a step or two, and again throw- 
ing out their wings. "When the weather is mild, the old males 
are heard singing with as much spirit as during the spring or 
summer, while the younger birds are busily engaged in practic- 
ing, preparatory to the love season. They seldom resort to the 
interior of the forest either during the day or by night, but usu- 
ally roost among the foliage of evergreens, in the immediate 
vicinity of houses in Louisiana, although in the eastern states 
they prefer low fir trees. 

The flight of the mocking bird is performed by short jerks of 
the body and wings, at every one of which a strong twitching 
motion of the tail is perceived. This motion is still more appar- 
ent while the bird is walking, when it opens its tail like a fan and 
instantly closes it again. . . . When traveling, this flight is only 
a little prolonged, as the bird goes from tree to tree, or at most 
across a field, scarcely, if ever, rising higher than the top of the 
forest. During this migration, it generally resorts to the highest 
parts of the woods near watercourses, utters its usual mournful 
note, and roosts in these places. It travels mostly by day. 

Few hawks attack the mocking birds, as on their approach, 
however sudden it may be, they are always ready not only to de- 
fend themselves vigorously and with undaunted courage, but to 
meet the aggressor half way, and force him to abandon his inten- 



64 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

tion. The only hawk that occasionally surprises the mocking 
bird is the Falco Starlen, which flies low with great swiftness 
and carries the bird off without any apparent stop. Should it 
happen that the ruffian misses his prey, the mocking bird in 
turn becomes the assailant and pursues the hawk with great 
courage, calling in the meantime all the birds of its species to its 
assistance; and although it cannot overtake the marauder, the 
alarm created by their cries, which are propagated in succession 
among all the birds in the vicinity, like the watchwords of senti- 
nels on duty, prevents him from succeeding in his attempts. 

The musical powers of this bird have often been taken notice 
of by European naturalists and persons who find pleasure in 
listening to the songs of different birds while in confinement or 
at large. Some of these persons have described the notes of the 
nightingale as occasionally fully equal to those of our bird. I 
have frequently heard both species, in confinement and in the 
wild state, and without prejudice have no hesitation in pronounc- 
ing the notes of the European philomel equal to those of a sou- 
brette of taste, which, could she study under a Mozart, might per- 
haps in time become very interesting in her way. But to com- 
pare her essays to the finished talent of the mocking bird is, in 
my opinion, quite absurd. 

Notes and Questions 

1. Read the lines which tell you whether the author wrote this descrip- 
tion from memory or while he was actually visiting the scene described. 

2. This selection was written to give you interesting information about 
the mocking bird. If you have read carefully, you will have no trouble 
in recalling the facts. Test your reading by answering the following 
questions : 

(a) In what state is the home of the mocking bird described by 
Audubon ? 

(b) Where do mocking birds usually build their nests, in the 
forests or near the farmhouses? Why? 



THE MOCKING BIRD 65 

(c) What five materials were collected by the mocking bird for 
the building of the nest ? 

(d) How many eggs are deposited in the nest? 

(e) Where do these birds find food for their young? 

(/) At what age does the brood leave the nest of the parent 
birds? 

3. Select and read aloud lines which : 

(a) Best describe the song of the mocking bird. 
(&) Give the most beautiful description of nature. 

(c) Describe the courting of the mocking bird. 

(d) Lead you to believe this bird is a happy creature. 

4. Prepare a special report, oral or written, on the work that is being 
done by the "National Association of Audubon Societies" for the con- 
servation and protection of bird life. (Consult the encyclopedia and 
Bird-Lore, the official magazine of the Audubon Society. ) 

5. There are difficult words and Dhrases in "The Mocking Bird." 
Some of these are given below; other words and phrases are included 
in the Glossary: vernal, diversified, exultation, modulations, vigilant, 
philomel. 

exuberant fertility (p. 61) propagated in succession (p. 64) 

extent of its compass (p. 61) soubrette of taste (p. 64) 

attunes his pipe anew (p. 62) finished talent (p. 64) 

You will find Birds of America by Audubon a very interesting and 
entertaining book. It contains four hundred thirty-five colored plates 
and ten hundred fifty-five life-sized pictures of birds. Audubon's pic- 
tures are unrivaled in their exact reproduction of form and color. 



BIEDS OF THE SOUTHEKN WINTEE 

Archibald Rutledge 

To the blizzard-bound Northerner there is no more fascinating 
form of imagination than to picture to himself the sunny homes 
that have been found by his bird friends that have migrated 
southward. Yet few bird-lovers can have an accurate idea of 
the winter surroundings of their summer favorites unless they 
have observed them in the South. 

It is a well-known fact that the robin changes his disposition 
with his location ; he may be the most confiding and friendly com- 
panion when on the lawn, but at a distance from a house, he is 
apt to develop traits of wildness and suspicion. The characteris- 
tic of wariness is always found among robins in the South. In 
general, the robin is songless in his winter quarters, his only 
notes being his liquid word of alarm and his shrill flight call. 
Occasionally, however, a flock will give voice to a subdued chorus, 
audible at a considerable distance through the hollow-echoing 
piney woods. These great pineries of the Southland, together 
with the swamps that drain — or more often do not drain — them, 
harbor robins in vast numbers. Near the mouth of the Santee 
River in southeastern South Carolina the writer recently tried 
to estimate the number of robins in a flight that was changing 
swamps. How wide the flight was is not known, but the portion 
upon which the estimate was based passed over an open field, 
completely surrounded by tall pines, a quarter of a mile long by 
a half-mile wide. Over this space the robins flew from noon 
until dusk — about five hours. At any fixed period there must 
have been a thousand robins in sight ; so, estimating that it took 
a robin a minute and a half to fly across the field, the total num- 
ber seen could not run far short of two hundred thousand. Prob- 
ably the number was much greater. During this hurried pas- 

66 



BIRDS OF THE SOUTHERN WINTER 67 

sage the birds were silent except for an occasional flight call, 
which would be answered by a score of similar cries. 

In the liberal semi-tropical woods of the South the robins have 
a ' ' continual feast of nectared sweets. ' ' They feed chiefly on the 
black berries of the gum tree, on those of the tupelo, on the scar- 
let ones of the holly, the cassena, and the baybrier, and on those 
of the wild orange. They are also very fond of the faintly sweet 
crumpled yellow berries of the Pride-of -India tree. The swamps 
and thickets are full of berry-laden vines, while every water- 
course is lined with growths bearing succulent fruits. 

One of the most beautiful sights in all the pine woods of the 
South is that of a flock of robins feasting in a holly tree. The bark 
of the tree is grayish white, and the leaves, of course, are those 
of a typical evergreen. The holly often attains — especially near 
water — a height of fifty or sixty feet, and is usually cone-shaped, 
like many varieties of cedar; and when its glossy foliage is 
starred with myriads of twinkling scarlet berries, its beauty is 
supreme. When the redbreasts, roaming the wide woods, come 
upon such a glorious find, they are as happy as little children 
are over the beneficence of Santa Claus. They crowd into the 
green foliage, their bright breasts flashing back and forth against 
the dark green of the leaves and the shadowy snow of the trunk 
and branches or blending in glistening beauty with the color of 
the berries. As the winter advances, robins draw in from the 
pine woods and the swamps to cities, villages, and plantations, 
where they find winter-mellowed fruit awaiting them. In such 
environments the robins lose much of their wild and wary nature 
and become friendly, confiding birds of the Northern spring and 
early summer. 

When the first breath of autumn tinges the Southern 
woods, the catbirds arrive and immediately begin their foraging 
for pikeberries. This luscious bird fruit is commonly found along 
fence rows, in grown-up cleared ground, and on the borders of 
thickets ; and there our querulous arrival is to be seen whisking 
from pikeberry bush to rail fence, where he will fluff up his 



68 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

feathers, then smooth them — actually flatten them — and, flirting 
his red-tinged tail, will peer inquisitively from side to side, giv- 
ing his cautious, questioning call. 

Cedar waxwings are welcome visitors to the South in the win- 
ter, for, while they are shy and silent, their manners are attrac- 
tively demure and their plumage rivals in delicate tints the ex- 
quisite blending of shades usually found only on game birds. 
They are late nesters in the North ; it is often as late as August 
before a brood is reared. When their scattered bands wander 
southward, they unite; so frequently they may be observed in 
flocks of several hundred. The food they enjoy most is the waxen 
berry of the mistletoe, though in general they eat just what 
robins eat, and the two species are often found associated 
together. 

Among the bird sights that have the power to impress through 
sheer wonder and astonishment none is greater or more beautiful 
than a vast concourse of red-winged blackbirds, either covering 
long aisles of cypresses as with a sable mantle, or " balling " in 
inky clouds over the rice stubble. It is estimated that in such 
flocks the number runs close to half a million. Sometimes they 
light in some favorite feeding-place — as where a stack of rice has 
stood- — in such countless numbers that they actually swarm on 
one another's backs, seeming to be two or three tiers deep. Black- 
birds in the winter resort to the river marshes and the waste 
thickets of delta lands, both to feed and to roost. In company 
with the redwings, there are often boat-tailed grackles, Florida 
grackles, and rusty blackbirds. Occasionally, too, there will be 
seen an albino of one of these species, a most odd and surprising 
sight. 

Blackbirds are very destructive to rice, both while it is in the 
field and after it has been stacked. The tops of the stacks are 
soon shredded of their grain; but birds forage along the sides 
all winter. Some kinds of birds, particularly blackbirds and 
several varieties of the sparrow family, beleaguer the rice all 
day ; but it is at dawn or at twilight that the stacks are gather- 



BIRDS OF THE SOUTHERN WINTER 



">-\. 



! v- ^ 







ing places for all the birds on the plantation. There flames the 
cardinal, his haughty crest rising and falling with every change 
in his subtle and various emotions; there the blue jay, ceasing 
his endless pranks and his noisy clamoring in the live-oaks, will 
sail out to the top of a tall tree to find his supper at a common 
table among humbler companions ; sometimes the tufted titmouse 
will feed on rice, as also will flickers; most remarkable of all, 
perhaps, is the appearance of a hermit thrush among the motley 
concourse of birds. 

In general, the birds of the Southern winter are not singers ; 
and the absence of the lyric strain is a serious defect in a char- 
acter, whose chief charm, as in the case of song birds, is romantic. 
But probably we should not love their songs half so well if we 
could hear them all the time. During the winter months even the 
glorious mocking bird is a harsh-mannered, harsh-voiced neigh- 
bor, though a balmy, bright hour is apt to melt his heart and to 
lure him into song. Probably the cheeriest, bonniest, of all the 



70 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

winter birds is the intrepid, the dauntless, the deliriously pert 
and inquisitive Carolina wren, whose carol rings merrily from 
the faded garden or from the wind-swept woodpile. During all 
the months of bare trees and north winds he is singing jauntily, 
always with his busy air of absurd importance. 

No migrant changes its nature so completely during different 
periods of the year as does the bobolink. In the North, where 
this sportive songster is found in grassy meadows and along reed- 
grown streams in the summer, he is the personification of blithe 
joy and abandon. Bryant's poem to him is an excellently accu- 
rate description of his summer nature; but during his stay in 
the South he is an entirely different creature. While he is not 
really a resident of the Southern states during the winter — he 
winters as far south as Paraguay and southern Brazil — his stay 
at the end of the summer is often six weeks in length — ample 
time in which to study a bird in a * ' stop-over ' ' environment. In 
the ricefields of the South he is a most interesting as well as a 
most destructive bird, and his presence adds to the picturesque- 
ness of the great rice harvest. The bobolinks arrive about August 
20, and sometimes linger, if there is good feeding in grassy corn- 
fields, until the first of October. When the birds first come, they 
are rather thin and shy, and their only note is a metallic 
monotonous "pink-pank." But as the season progresses, they 
become very fat and very tame, often sitting on the coffee-grass 
that lines the margins of the ricefield banks until the observer 
can almost catch them. The plumage of both sexes at the time is 
softly ocherous, with tints of brown and black on the back and 
wings. 

The chief interest occasioned by this late summer visitor is 
rather expensive and rather unpleasant because of his destruc- 
tion of the ricefields, but there are at such a time observations 
possible which are highly valuable to the student of bird life. 
Undoubtedly the most impressive of these is the fact of the 
ricebird's gluttony. He grows so corpulent that he becomes un- 
wary, he loses his grace of flight, his voice changes from a tenor 



BIRDS OF THE SOUTHERN WINTER 71 

to a lugubrious bass. Ricebirds roost iu the marshes that border 
the rivers and in tall reeds that have taken possession of waste 
ricelands. Even there they are pursued by hunters who, blind- 
ing them with a lightwood torch, pick them off their perches. 
And, even though the birds are a nuisance to the South, for the 
sake of others who love them for their songs of the summer, laws 
should be passed forbidding the capture of birds at night. 

The bobolinks pay the South another visit in the spring, when 
they are known as Maybirds. At that time they feed on the rice 
that is being sown. The males are then in full summer plumage 
and in full song. They precede the females in migration by a 
week or more and appear far more joyous than their sober er- 
hued helpmates. This spring visit to the South is very short, and 
the true bobolink as he is at this time is not so well known there 
as the ricebird is in the late summer. 

A drive through the Southern woods in winter is a source of 
great delight to the bird-lover. The level roads, smooth as 
white sand can make them and fragrantly carpeted with pine 
needles, lead from dewy swamp to airy ridges, and by tiny farms 
that have been desperately wrested from the engulfing growth 
of the monstrous woods. In the native growths of pine and tupelo 
the birds most frequently met, and seldom found anywhere else, 
are the pine warbler, the brown-headed nuthatch, and the downy 
woodpecker. Occasionally, swinging far through the tinted 
vistas of the purple forest, there will be seen the magnificent 
black pileated woodpecker, which, with his flaming scarlet cock- 
ade, looks at a distance much as the lost ivory-billed woodpecker 
must have looked before the encroachments of men drove him out 
of his native haunts. From the grassy roadside flickers bound 
up startlingly, hurtle to near-by trees, and there hang, their 
heads peering over their shoulders. In sunny spaces along the 
road small flocks of doves will be seen, and frequently brown 
coveys of quail will troop gracefully over the sandy driveway or 
will huddle together until one passes. Through the sunlit woods 
large flocks of bluebirds can be seen, warbling that delightful 



72 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

note that in the North heralds the spring. Meadow larks, while 
usually found in grainfields and cottonfields, are often met with 
in the pine woods, where they find excellent cover in the tall yel- 
low broom sedge. Traveling together in small flocks, the Carolina 
chickadee and the tufted titmouse are frequently seen, as are also 
goldfinches, brown creepers, ruby-crowned kinglets, and blue- 
gray gnat catchers. If the observer be fortunate, it is quite likely 
that he may catch a glimpse of a blue-headed or a white-eyed 
vireo, an orange-crowned, a yellow-throated, or a palm, warbler, 
or even a Southern yellow-throat or a golden-crowned thrush. 
Most of the members of the sparrow family winter in fields rather 
than in woods ; and so, if the road leads through cultivated lands, 
one may see vesper sparrows, savanna sparrows — along ditch 
banks — chipping sparrows, white-throated sparrows, and, most 
welcome of all, song sparrows, that sing throughout the entire 
winter. 

Notes and Questions 

Archibald Rutledge, of South Carolina, is a sympathetic student of 
Southern life and customs, as well as of nature in the Southland. His 
writings contain many tales of his thrilling personal experiences while 
hunting in the marshes and swamps of his native state. "Birds of the 
Southern Winter" is taken from Days Off in Dixie. You will find several 
other interesting stories in the same volume. 

1. Describe the scene that Rutledge believes to be "one of the most 
beautiful sights in all the pine woods of the South." 

2. Which bird mentioned by Rutledge do you think is his favorite? 
Read aloud lines to support your choice. What particular berry attracts 
the catbird? 

3. Why is the cedar waxwing a most welcome visitor in the South? 
Give the reason why blackbirds are unwelcome. What changes take 
place in the bobolink during his six weeks' stay in the South? 

4. Read aloud what you consider the best description in this article. 
Describe in your own words the scene that would greet you on "a drive 
through the Southern woods in winter.' 7 

5. Make two lists of the different kinds of birds mentioned in "Birds 
of the Southern Winter." The first list may contain the names of the 



BIRDS OF THE SOUTHERN WINTER 73 

birds that live in your community ; the second list may record birds that 
are strange to you and your locality. 

6. From your list of familiar birds, choose one that is common to 
your locality and make a careful study of it. Then write a theme to be 
read to the class in which you describe the personal appearance, habits, 
and home of your chosen bird. Find colored pictures to assist you in 
your description. Use all available references to help you to make your 
report interesting, instructive, and attractive. 

"Bird Songs and Call Notes," Hawkes (in The Way of the Wild), is 
an interesting reference you may like to read. 

Special Reports 

The reading period calls forth many interesting subjects that you 
will wish to learn more about and discuss with your classmates. You will 
find it worth while occasionally to make a report to the class on some 
particular subject in which you have become interested while reading. 
Most of these reports you will doubtless like to give orally, but some of 
them you may wish to present in written form. Whether your report is 
oral or written, it should : 

{a) have an opening sentence which arouses the interest of your 
audience. 

(b) tell worth-while facts. 

(c) be well organized. 

(d) have a carefully prepared summarizing sentence at the close. 

Make a special report on one of the following topics : 

(a) How birds help to keep down weeds 

(b) "A bird in the bush is worth two in the hand" 

(c) "Shooting birds with a camera" 

(d) Uncle Sam's refuges for birds 

You will find Compton's Pictured Encyclopedia helpful in preparing 
your talks on birds. 

You may want to read one or more of these books about birds : The 
Log of the Sun, Beebe; "Some Famous Bird Travelers" and "The Travels 
of the Bobolink," Chapman (in The Travels of Birds); "The Flight of 
Birds" and "The Procession Passes," Wright (in Gray Lady and the 
Birds) ; "Bird Life in Winter" and "The Coming of Spring," Hudson (in 
The Land's End) ; "The Migration of Birds," Chapman (in Bird-Life). 



MORNING-GLORIES 

Madison Cawein 

They swing from the garden-trellis 

In Ariel-airy ease; 
And their aromatic honey 

Is sought by the earliest bees. 

The rose, it knows their secret, 
And the jessamine, also knows; 

And the rose told me the story 
That the jessamine told the rose. 

And the jessamine said: "At midnight, 
Ere the red cock woke and crew, 

The fays of Queen Titania 

Came here to bathe in the dew. 

' ' And the yellow moonlight glistened 

On braids of elfin hair ; 
And fairy feet on the flowers 

Fell softer than any air. 

"And their petticoats, gay as bubbles, 

They hung up, every one, 
On the morning-glory's tendrils, 

Till their moonlight bath was done. 

"And the red cock crew too early, 

And the fairies fled in fear, 
Leaving their petticoats, purple and pink, 

Like blossoms hanging here." 
74 



MORNING-GLORIES 75 

Notes and Questions 

Madison Cawein (1865-1914) was born in Louisville, Kentucky, and 
spent most of his life in his native state. When he was a small boy, he 
lived among the hills and meadows and woodlands. It was there that 
Cawein first learned to know and love nature, and to develop his powers 
of imagination. 

When he began to write, his mind instinctively turned to the nature 
world he had loved from his early years. Most of the themes for his 
poetry are chosen from it. Cawein will be remembered as one of 
America's sweet singers in verse. 

1. The poet made a compound word by combining the name Shake- 
speare gave to a fairy with the word "airy" ; what do you think was his 
purpose in doing this ? 

2. In which stanza is the name of the flower first mentioned? Why 
do you think the poet withheld the name? 

3. How does Cawein say he learned this story? Where does the poet 
think the morning-glories came from? 

Other nature poems you may enjoy are "The Flowerphone," Brown 
(in The Melody of Earth, Richards) ; "The Seed," Fenollosa (in Poetry's 
Plea for Animals, Clarke). 



MAY IS BUILDING HER HOUSE 

ElCHARD LE G-ALLIENNE 

May is building her house. With apple blooms 

She is roofing over the glimmering rooms ; 

Of the oak and the beech hath she builded its beams, 

And, spinning all day at her secret looms, 

With arras of leaves each wind-swayed wall 

She pictureth over, and peopleth it all 

With echoes and dreams, 

And singing of streams. 

May is building her house of petal and blade ; 
Of the roots of the oak is the flooring made, 
With a carpet of mosses and lichen and clover, 
Each small miracle over and over, 
And tender, traveling green things strayed. 

Her windows the morning and evening star, 
And her rustling doorways, ever ajar 

With the coming and going 

Of fair things blowing, 
The thresholds of the four winds are. 

May is building her house. From the dust of things 
She is making the songs and the flowers and the wings ; 
From October's tossed and trodden gold 
She is making the young year out of the old ; 
Yea! out of winter's flying sleet 
She is making all the summer sweet ; 
And the brown leaves spurned of November's feet 
She is changing back again to spring 's. 
76 



MAY IS BUILDING HER HOUSE 77 

Notes and Questions 

Richard Le Gallienne (1866- ), author and journalist, is "English 
by birth and education, but American by long residence." 

1. If an artist were to make a sketch of May's house as described in 
the first two stanzas, what details should he put in? What details men- 
tioned in the third stanza would be difficult to include in this sketch? 
How might they be indicated ? 

2. What three things form the main design of the carpet for May's 
house? If you have ever noticed the design of a handsome carpet, it 
will be easy to see how lines 12 and 13 furnish the smaller details of the 
carpet design. What might some of the "small miracles" and "tender, 
traveling green things" be? 

3. Which line in the last stanza really expresses the main thought of 
the stanza? What does this line mean to you? In connection with this 
stanza, the following lines from Philip Freneau's "May to April" may 
be helpful and interesting : 

"Without your showers, I breed no flowers; 

Each field a barren waste appears. 
If you don't weep, my flowers sleep, 

They take such pleasure in your tears." 

4. Select and read aloud the lines that seem most musical to you. 
Choose a classmate who can read the entire poem aloud to the class in 
such a way as to bring out its singing quality. 

5. When you were in the lower grades, you probably made May 
baskets and filled them with blossoms, to be distributed among teachers 
and friends on the first of May. Read Robert Herrick's poem, "Corinna's 
Going a-Maying" (in The Home Book of Verse, Stevenson) and consult 
Compton's Pictured Encyclopedia, or any other good source book, for 
suggestions as to old May-day customs and festivals. Organize your 
information into an interesting account, called "The Custom of May- 
day" or "The Meaning of the May," and obtain permission from your 
teacher to present it to the children in one of the lower grades. 



THE PURPLE GRASSES 
Henry D. Thoreau 

By the twentieth of August, everywhere in woods and swamps 
we are reminded of the fall. The purple grass is now in the 
height of its beauty. I remember still when I first noticed this 
grass particularly. Standing on the hillside near our river, I saw, 
thirty or forty rods off, a stripe of purple half a dozen rods long, 
under the edge of a wood, where the ground sloped toward a 
meadow. It was as high-colored and interesting, though not quite 
so bright, as the patches of rhexia, being a darker purple, like a 
berry 's stain laid on close and thick. On going to and examining 
it, I found it to be a kind of grass in bloom, hardly a foot high, 
with but a few green blades and a fine spreading panicle of 
purple flowers, a shallow, purplish mist trembling around me. 
Close at hand it appeared but a dull purple, and made little im- 
pression on the eye ; it was even difficult to detect ; and if you 
plucked a single plant, you were surprised to find how thin it 
was and how little color it had. But viewed at a distance in a 
favorable light, it was a fine lively purple, flower-like, enriching 
the earth. Such puny causes combine to produce these decided 
effects. I was the more surprised and charmed because grass 
is commonly of a sober and humble color. 

With its beautiful purplish blush it reminds me, and supplies 
the place, of the rhexia, which is now leaving off, and is one of 
the most interesting phenomena of August. The finest patches 
of it grow on waste strips or selvages of land at the base of dry 
hills, just above the edge of the meadows, where the greedy 
mower does not deign to swing his scythe ; for this is a thin and 
poor grass, beneath his notice. Or, it may be because it is so 
beautiful and he does not know that it exists ; for the same eye 
does not see this and timothy. He carefully gets the meadow 

78 



THE PURPLE GRASSES 79 

hay and the more nutritious grasses which grow next to that, but 
he leaves the fine purple mist for the walker's harvest — fodder 
for his fancy's stock. Higher up the hill, perchance, grow also 
blackberries, John's-wort, and neglected and withered, the wiry 
June grass. How fortunate that it grows in such places, and not 
in the midst of the rank grasses which are annually cut ! Nature 
thus keeps use and beauty distinct. I know of many such local- 
ities, where it does not fail to present itself annually and paint 
the earth with its blush. It grows on the gentle slopes, either in 
a continuous patch or in scattered and rounded tufts a foot in 
diameter, and it lasts until it is killed by the first smart frosts. 

Notes and Questions 

For over two years Henry Thoreau lived alone in a cabin built by him- 
self near Concord, Massachusetts. Here he studied nature and secured the 
material for his most famous book, Walden. This book tells the story of 
Thoreau's life in the out-of-doors. In it are many comments on life, 
politics, and literature, but it is as a work about nature that Walden lives 
and continues to grow more popular each year. This volume alone would 
place Thoreau among the greatest of American writers. 

If you should go to Walden Pond today, you would find, close to the 
spot where the little cabin stood, a large heap of stones that has gradu- 
ally been raised to Thoreau's memory by the hundreds of pilgrims who 
yearly visit this literary shrine. 

1. Describe the scene in which the purple grass was first noticed by 
Thoreau. To what does the author compare the color of the purple grass ? 

2. Explain in your own words the following statements : 

(a) "Such puny causes combine to produce these decided effects." 

(b) "Nature thus keeps use and beauty distinct." 

3. Of what flower is the poet reminded by the purple color of the 
grass ? Where does the purple grass grow most abundantly ? Why does 
the mower leave it unmolested? Who gets the greatest benefit from it? 

4. Explain Thoreau's meaning in the phrase, "fodder for his fancy's 
stock." Read aloud the lines in the selection that you like best. 



A VAGABOND SONG 

Bliss Carman 

There is something in the Autumn that is native to my blood — 

Touch of manner, hint of mood ; 

And my heart is like a rime, 

With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time. 

The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry 

Of bugles going by. 

And my lonely spirit thrills 

To see the frosty asters like smoke upon the hills. 

There is something in October sets the gipsy blood astir ; 

We must rise and follow her, 

When from every hill of flame 

She calls and calls each vagabond by name. 

Notes and Questions 
You will find a note about Bliss Carman on page 59. 

1. To what does the poet say his heart keeps time? Where does he 
see these colors'? How does the color of the maples affect him? What 
connection do you see between scarlet and the sound of bugles ? 

2. To what does the poet compare the color of the asters'? How does 
Carman make you feel the "flame" color of the hills ? 

3. Who calls the vagabond by name? Who is the vagabond? Com- 
pare your own feelings about autumn scenery with the emotions 
expressed by the poet. 

Here are some nature poems you may enjoy: "Cadences," Clover, 
"The Joy of the Hills," Markham, "Wander-Thirst," Gould (in Poems 
of Today, Cooper) ; "Up a Hill and a Hill," Davis, "The Path That 
Leads to Nowhere," Robinson (in The Melody of Earth, Richards). 

80 




n. "' :i) V I 



SALUTE TO THE TREES 

Henry van Dyke 

Many a tree is found in the wood, 
And every tree for its use is good : 
Some for the strength of the gnarled root, 
Some for the sweetness of flower or fruit ; 
Some for the shelter against the storm, 
And some to keep the hearthstone warm ; 
Some for the roof, and some for the beam, 
And some for a boat to breast the stream. 
In the wealth of the wood since the world began 
The trees have offered their gift to man. 
81 



82 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

But the glory of trees is more than their gifts : 
'Tis a beautiful wonder of life that lifts, 
From a wrinkled seed in an earth-bound clod, 
A column, an arch in the temple of God, 
A pillar of power, a dome of delight, 
A shrine of song, and a joy of sight ! 
Their roots are the nurses of rivers in birth; 
Their leaves are alive with the breath of the earth ; 
They shelter the dwelling of man, and they bend 

'er his grave with the look of a loving friend. 

1 have camped in the whispering forest of pines, 
I have slept in the shadow of olives and vines ; 
In the knees of an oak, at the foot of a palm, 

I have found good rest and slumber 's balm. 
And now, when the morning gilds the boughs 
Of the vaulted elm at the door of my house, 
I open my window and make salute : 
1 ' God bless thy branches and feed thy root ! 
Thou hast lived before, live after me, 
Thou ancient, friendly, faithful tree." 

Notes and Questions 

Henry van Dyke (1852-1933) was one of the best loved and most 
useful of our American writers. Whatever work he engaged in, he 
always found time to enjoy the out-of-doors. One of his daughters 
writes this : "Our earliest recollections of our father are in connection 
with fishing and camping expeditions. When he was away, we always 
thought he had 'gone fishing/ and our most youthful ambition was to go 
with him." 

For over forty years, in both prose and poetry, this great author 
opened the eyes of his readers to the lovely things of nature, and by 
another kind of writing helped "to lift the world up and make it a 
better, happier one than he found it." Van Dyke, after retiring from 
active life as a teacher, kept busy filling lecture engagements all over 
the country. 



SALUTE TO THE TREES 83 

1. Find at least six uses of trees given by the poet, and quote one or 
more lines from the poem to show why "each is good." For example: 
fuel. "And some to keep the hearthstone warm." 

2. Van Dyke refers to the tree by several different names. For 
example : "a shrine of song." Find five other names. 

3. Van Dyke calls trees "an arch in the temple of God." Read Long? 
fellow's "My Cathedral" (in the Poetical Works of Longfellow) and 
compare and contrast the thoughts of the two poets, stating in your 
own words the likenesses and differences you discover. 

4. Of what use are the roots of trees'? The leaves? Explain the poet's 
meaning when he calls the tree "a shrine of song"; "a dome of delight." 

5. Be prepared to tell the meaning of one of the following quotations : 

(a) "Slim and black and wonderful with all unrest gone by, 
The stripped tree-boughs comfort me, drawn clear against 
the sky." (From "Winter Branches," Widdemer) 

(b) "When I see their (the elms') magnificent domes, miles away 
in the horizon over intervening valleys and forests, 
they suggest a village, a community there ... I find that 
into my idea of the village has entered more of the elm than 
of the human being. They are worth many a political 
borough. They constitute a borough. The poor human repre- 
sentative of his party sent out from beneath their shade will 
not suggest one tithe of the dignity, the true nobleness and 
comprehensiveness of view, the sturdiness and independence 
and the serene beneficence that they do." (From Thoreau in 
The Heart of Thoreau } s Journals, Shepard) 

(c) "To heal mine aching moods, 
Give me God's virgin woods, 
His cloistered solitudes 
Where none intrudes !" 

(From "The Healing of the Wood," Scollard) 

6. Take a tree census of your town or neighborhood, allotting certain 
portions to each pupil, and report the results to the class. An excellent 
book to aid you in naming the trees is The Forester's Manual, or Forest 
Trees of North America, by Ernest Thompson Seton. After this report 
has been given, the class should decide upon ways of improving the tree 
situation in the neighborhood. 



BOB-WHITE : A VANISHING GAME BIRD 

t Dallas Lore Sharp 

You will enjoy reading Sanctuary ! Sanctuary I, the book from which 
"Bob-White : a Vanishing Game Bird" is taken. In this book Mr. Sharp 
urges the preservation of wild life, and the study, knowledge, and love 
of it, in order that we may the better appreciate the beauty of the world 
in which we live. 

Out of the swampy tangle in the hollow I hear the morning 
notes of the wood thrush, a shy, hidden minstrel, a voice of the 
woods at prayer. Below in the open meadow tumbling cataracts 
of bobolinking come tinkling up to me. I saw two male bobolinks 
over in the meadow yesterday, just returned from their winter 
journey, and newly wed, and dangerously happy — a human 
view ! They could not stay down in the lush grass for a whole 
minute together, so bubbling were their spirits, so buoyant were 
their souls with song. 

All the air this morning is lively with cries and calls, for this 
is early June, the lovely din close caught to earth, where every- 
thing seems listening except these singing birds. And now the 
quiet speaks, or seems to me to speak, so unaccustomed am I to 
the call of the quail. High above the nearer notes, and off beyond 
the meadow under the wall of the woods, I hear the clean-cut 
whistle, " Bob-white! Bob-white!" — round and tender, each 
throbbing syllable a clear pure curve of melody, almost of color, 
as it arches the meadow and falls upon my ear. Except for the 
protection of our Hingham sanctuary I should in all probability 
never hear bob-white whistling from the gray stone fences on my 
side of town again. 

Bob-white needs a sanctuary and needs it now. Hardier, it may 
be, than the heath hen, and readier for human associations, bob- 
white might forever hold his own. It is the family we must save 
while it is still a family, spread as a family and conscious that it 

84 



BOB-WHITE : A VANISHING GAME BIRD 85 

is a family. Reduce a family to a handful of individuals, and 
its spirit is broken. Let a species begin to slip, and something 
racial seems to overtake it — a loss of heart and vital strength 
and natural instincts; fewer young are raised; and, conquered 
as a race, it seems as a race to pass within the shadow of its 
doom. 

The singing of the bobolinks is the merrier, I think, for the 
law New Jersey has recently passed placing these birds upon 
the protected list. I was a New Jersey boy, loving the tall reeds 
of the river flats as much as the bobolinks, where in autumn I 
have seen the birds slaughtered by the thousands. As soon as 
the big reeds began to ripen, the bobolinks — or "reedbirds" or 
1 ' ricebirds, ' ' as we called them — moving south, would swoop 
down upon the meadows, and down upon the birds would swoop 
the city gunners. The destruction was awful. That is forbidden 
now. 

Behind this new law, however, and stronger than the law, is 
the growing sympathy and understanding of the people. Much 
as we need such laws, they are worse than null unless those who 
write them upon the statute books first write them upon their 
hearts. Love and law will save the bobolinks. It is love that 
knows his song, knows his story, knows his significance in a 
world of men and meadows. This is spirit — which makes the 
letter of the law alive. 

Every reason for protecting the bobolink, or any bird, is a 
reason for protecting the quail. Only the beauty of his scaling 
flight — a perfect mark — and his plump body can be advanced for 
killing him. He ought at once to be taken from the game-bird 
class, except in private preserves, and placed securely among 
the insect-eaters as the friend of man. 

Bob-white is a seed-eater, a prodigious seed-eater, there is no 
denying that, and, according to Mrs. Margaret Morse Nice in 
Volume III, Number 3, of the Journal of Economic Entomology, 
a single bob-white in a single day has been known to eat of barn- 
yard grass 2500 seeds ; beggar ticks, 1400 ; black mustard, 2500 ; 



86 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

burdock, 600 ; crab grass, 2000 ; curled dock, 4175 ; dodder, 1560 ; 
evening primrose, 10,000 ; lamb 's quarter, 15,000 ; milkweed, 770 ; 
pepper grass, 2400; pigweed, 12,000; plantain, 12,500; rabbit's 
foot clover, 30,000 ; round-headed bush clover, 1800 ; smartweed, 
2250; white vervain, 18,750; water smartweed, 2000; besides — 
but this leaves no reasonable doubt of bob-white's being some- 
thing of a seed-eater. 

For a day of three square meals, 122,205 seeds, and every 
seed of them a pest! Besides these, I was starting to say, bob- 
white is the enemy of 145 species of injurious insects, including 
cutworms. And his appetite for trouble of this sort is as im- 
measurable as it is for troubling weeds. 

A friend of mine in Illinois came recently upon a hen quail, 
surrounded by numerous chicks, and watched her climb the tall 
weeds to shake down the chinch bugs infesting them to her 
devouring brood. Some of the weeds and grass she bent down 
where the chicks could pick the bugs off, scratching hard to 
provide for her family, but scratching harder still, though she 
recked little of it, to provide for the family of my farmer friend 
— and myself. 

Many a time I have followed the tracks of the quail in a freshly 
cultivated potato patch, where they have run about with havoc 
to the beetles. Paris green will do for the beetles, to be sure, but 
Paris green is expensive and dangerous. The immense economic 
waste borne annually by the nation on account of insects stag- 
gers the multiplication table. It is our greatest single loss. Over 
against these insect enemies, nature has set the birds. This is a 
bug-bitten, worm-eaten, louse-infested world. But what light 
the quail throws upon the situation ! He was constructed to take 
care of 145 species of them. And the comfort of knowing that a 
single flicker has a counted record of 1000 chinch bugs for a meal ; 
that a cuckoo has been seen to devour ' ' 250 tent caterpillars when 
disturbed in the midst of a meal"; and that in forty minutes a 
Maryland yellow-throat was observed to stow away a total of 
3500 plant lice ! 



BOB-WHITE : A VANISHING GAME BIRD 87 

These are thrilling, no less than comforting, figures, or would 
be if only there were quails and cuckoos and nickers and Mary- 
land yellow-throats enough. And we still have the chance to 
make them enough. But let the slaughter continue, and not 
only shall worms destroy our bodies in the grave, but they shall 
crawl over the land of the living and eat up the world. 

Bob-white is "the most marvelous engine of destruction for 
the smaller pests of the farm ever put together of flesh and 
blood," says one of our scientists. And what a marvel, what a 
triumph of anatomical engineering is his competent, compact 
body ! Is there known a better constitution than his ? 

The bird is literally born with his boots on. The Illinois 
friend who told me the chinch-bug story came upon a quail's 
nest in one of his wheatfields, and carefully mowed around the 
spot, hoping to spare the eggs. Passing that way a few days 
later, he stopped to take a look at the nest. The sun was beating 
down upon the unprotected eggs, only a few of which were left. 
The birds had abandoned their home, he thought. Probably a 
fox or skunk had raided it. 

But as he looked, he imagined that one of the eggs stirred a 
little. A most mysterious thing! He came nearer and watched. 
The egg moved again, and he saw the pointed tip of a beak 
crack through the shell, and rapidly, right around in a circle, 
like some automatic punching machine operating from within, 
cut the shell in two. There was a kick, and a flop, and a popping, 
panting baby quail standing in the fierce sunshine. He caught 
his breath, took a squint at his hatcher in the sky, and hiked for 
cover, still damp from the shell. 

Here is a bird that needs nothing but a chance, and less than 
half a chance at that. Vitality such as his needs food only, and 
we have the weeds and bugs. This strength and courage is 
characteristic of the family. The plumed quail, or valley quail 
of California, like bob-white, begins to scratch for himself almost 
before he is hatched. He is "on his mark" and ready to jump 
in the shell. 



88 



ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 




" ~ ' W •• ' ^%'^f 






A pair of valley quail built a nest in a window box among 
the plants some six or eight feet from the ground. It chanced 
that the people of the house were ardent bird-lovers, and in 
their delight made the couple welcome to the window, the while 
they kept a most unneighborly watch upon the exquisite do- 
mestic affairs behind the big pane of glass. 

As the time arrived for the eggs to hatch, everybody was con- 
cerned about the sheer drop from the window box to the ground. 
How would the chicks get down? Except for a small rosebush 
a bit to one side, there was nothing beneath the window to break 
the fall. Would the mother help them — on her back, as tradition 
has it, or in her mouth, as a cat carries her kittens ? 

There is a vast difference between a baby quail and a kitten. 
The first scatterbrain chick to hatch jumped right out of the 
box, to the horror of the watchers, without so much as a look 
beneath to see how far he might descend or where he might land,, 



BOB- WHITE : A VANISHING GAME BIRD 89 

and fluttering his stub wings like tiny fins, hit the ground with 
a thud, bounced up, got his feet, and staggered off — smashing 
home ties with the world's record for speed. 

These birds are not of the apron-string class. Two or three 
more of the brood took the same sudden departure from the 
nest in the box, but most of the covey stayed a moment to 
reconnoiter, discovered the rosebush under the corner of the 
window sill, and dropped off into it, tumbling through the 
branches unhurt to the ground. None of them suffered damage, 
apparently. But it certainly speaks for a constitution when an 
infant goes after life in this manner and gets away with it. 

Bob-white has everything to recommend him. I should like to 
see him taken out of the game-bird class over all his range and 
made the special subject for study and honor. Hardy, friendly, 
musical, beneficial, he is by nature and habits our particular 
ally, a buffer spirit, or rather a go-between, 

"In the primal sympathy 
Which, having been, must ever be/' 

linking all life together, men and quail. 

We must have a yet friendlier mind for all outdoors. Con- 
servation calls for knowledge as well as for sentiment. A marked 
sign of these times is the extent of our outdoor study, in school, 
out of school, among young and old, and persons of every sort. 
It has had much educationing, and the mind of America is at 
last distinctly inquiring and sympathetic toward all wild life, 
though for many a wild form this knowledge and interest has 
come too late. It finds these shapes and races gone, their names 
forever blotted from the Book of Life. For others, like the heath 
hen, the California condor, the prong-horned antelope of our 
sage plains, it has come in time to help, and possibly to save. 

All of this is a heavy price to pay for our dull wits and savage 
hearts. Yet nothing less than such irreparable loss could have 
aroused our fears and conquered our desire to kill. The lesson 
has gone none too deep even yet. See the senseless wild-life 



90 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

slaughter going on in Africa, sweeping that mighty continent 
like a fire. And much of it by Americans, too ! But over the 
whole of America the slaughter still goes on in spite of all that 
Americans have done in the way of protection. Yet a great 
and beneficent work has been started. Such far-reaching laws 
have been enacted, such a new, wiser, kinder care supplants 
the old spirit of slaughter, that we may hope for a new earth 
and such peace between wild life and human life as only the 
poets and prophets heretofore had dared to dream. 

We do not need to band bob-white. His ways are known. The 
year around he will not wander farther than across the town. 
But as a game bird he is still a legal mark for the gunner. 
Time was when I have drawn a bead upon him as he rose from 
the stubble and scaled away on short spread wings over the 
old worn fence into the alder swale. It took time and honest 
thinking and self-denial to shift from gun to field-glasses, from 
shooting to watching, to know the difference between a frosty 
field with a living quail left in it and that quail a bunch of 
bloody feathers in my game bag. 

We owe much good legislation to our sportsmen, no one 
wishes to deny that. But the plain fact remains that conditions 
for wild life have steadily and speedily changed for the worse, 
and that as matters stand, the sportsman who feeds and kills a 
covey of quail is not so good a conserver of birds as one who 
feeds them and lets them live. 

And the clear, sweet call from under the wall of the woods 
this morning proves how quickly, if given a chance, bob-white 
will return. Not since 1904 have native quail nested about 
Mullein Hill. They have from time to time been introduced 
here and have strayed across from the sanctuary, whistling 
until the gunning season in the fall. Then silence again. 

One autumn lately I was slow getting up my "No Gunning" 
signs, and the first day of open season on quail found me hastily 
nailing notices along the public road. The sportsmen were 
ahead of me, shooting over the meadow on the opposite side of 
the road, following up the only covey in the neighborhood. There 



BOB-WHITE : A VANISHING GAME BIRD 91 

were two or three men and as many dogs. I knew my birds 
were finished. 

Hurrying along with my warnings, I was driving a nail home 
when a gun spoke directly back of me, so close that I jumped 
as if I had been shot, and turning in my tracks saw a quail, 
wings wide open, head hanging, come up over the road and slide 
softly down at my feet, and at the foot of the maple tree under 
my futile sign! 

The gunner approached and read my notice, looked at the 
dead quail, and said: "I'm mighty sorry. It's the last covey, 
too. We've bagged 'em all." Then pointing to the "No Gun- 
ning ' ' sign, he went on, ' ' Posting a little piece like yours won 't 
do any good. We've got to post the whole country. But first 
we 've got to be educated out of killing. I 've shot all my life. It 's 
hard to realize that a game bird does not belong to the man who 
can kill it according to the law." 

' * You won 't be shooting this way again this season ? " I said. 

1 ' No. This is my one day off. And this is the last quail. ' ' 

"But I'm living here all the time," I went on. "I've heard 
that quail calling throughout the summer, and there isn't a 
sweeter call, is there? You have killed him for an instant's 
excitement. I would have had the pleasure of hearing him for 
a year to come. I suppose you will eat him?" 

"That's all he's good for, dead," he replied, and picked up 
the bird, a beautiful male. 

But the creature was not dead, not quite. Its body was para- 
lyzed. A drop of blood was oozing from its conical beak. But 
its clear, beautiful eyes were wide open, as if for a last look upon 
the tinted woods and brown frosted fields of its home. There was 
no fear, no reproach, no sign of pain in the steady, gentle eyes. 
Death had laid his hand upon the wild thing, and it was all soul. 
Pressing thumb and forefinger beneath the drooping wings, the 
sportsman stopped the beating of the eager heart, dropped the 
exquisite creature into a canvas bag, and went his way. 

I went my way, protesting — the open season, the pleasure of 
killing, and this swift, unfair, unprofitable doom. 



92 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Notes and Questions 

The writings of Dallas Lore Sharp are very like those of John Bur- 
roughs, the naturalist ; both authors show keen and accurate observation, 
sympathetic insight into nature, and respect for truth; and each writer 
is master of a peculiarly graceful and direct literary style. 

Mr. Sharp may quite accurately be regarded as a poet-naturalist. He 
saw things as they are, and he saw them in relation to their surroundings. 
His alert imagination interpreted nature with keenness, certainty, and 
sympathy. Instead of roaming over the country to study nature, Dallas 
Lore Sharp believed in staying at home and "getting the honey" there. 
His advice is "to study nature in some locality — anywhere — the nearer 
home the better, provided there are trees, water, fences, and some 
seclusion." For himself and his readers, Mr. Sharp made his Massachu- 
setts home a center of delight. 

1. Find one or more sentences in this selection to prove each of these 
statements : 

(a) "We do not need to band bob-white." 

(b) "Conservation calls for knowledge as well as for sentiment." 

(c) "We must have a yet friendlier mind for all outdoors." 

(d) "Here is a bird that needs nothing but a chance, and less 
than half a chance at that." 

(e) "Every reason for protecting the bobolink, or any other bird, 
is a reason for protecting the quail." 

(/) "Love and law will save the bobolinks." 

2. Give the author's meaning of one of these statements in a brief 
summarizing paragraph : 

(a) "The bird is literally born with his boots on." 

(b) "Bob-white has everything to recommend him." 

(c) "These birds are not of the apron-string class." 

(d) "It's hard to realize that a game bird does not belong to the 
man who can kill it according to the law." 

(e) "This is a bug-bitten, worm-eaten, louse-infested world." 

3. Find at least four good suggestions for your conservation club 
given by Dallas Lore Sharp in this story. For example : ''We've got to 
post the whole country." 

4. Read aloud statements made by the author to prove that bob-white 
is the farmer's friend. 



BOB-WHITE : A VANISHING GAME BIRD 93 

5. Prepare a special report to present to the class on one of these 
topics : 

(a) One quail in the field is worth more to you than a dozen in 
a bag 

(b) An ideal hunting 1 trip consists of a good comrade, interest- 
ing country, and a camera instead of a gun 

(c) "Help the birds, for they are helping us " 

(d) The legal protection of birds in my state 

6. Select and read aloud two statements which tell you that Dallas 
Lore Sharp is sad because of the destruction of bird life. For example : 
"You have killed him for an instant's excitement. I would have had the 
pleasure of hearing him for a year to come." 

7. Make a study of the bird sanctuaries of the present time. You 
will find help in Nature Magazine and in the references listed below. 
Here are seven sanctuaries that should be included in your study : 

(a) The memorial bird sanctuary in Hyde Park, London, dedi- 
cated to W. H. Hudson, writer and field naturalist. The 
memorial cost about $10,000, and the money was raised in 
England and America in small sums donated by the lovers 
of Hudson's books. 

(b) The Hingham Wild Life Sanctuary. This is a tract of three 
thousand acres near Hingham, Massachusetts, where both 
birds and animals are protected. 

(c) The Roosevelt Memorial Bird Sanctuary at Oyster Bay, 
Long Island. 

(d) The Baynes Sanctuary at Meriden, New Hampshire. 

(e) The Kellogg Bird Sanctuary near Battle Creek, Michigan. 
(/) The Bird Sanctuary on Avery's Island, Louisiana. 

(g) Three- Arch Rocks, off the coast of Oregon, a sea-fowl 
sanctuary. 
These references will be helpful in preparing your special reports: 
"Private Game Preserves" and "National and State Game Preserves 
and Bird Refuges," Hornaday (in Our Vanishing Wild Life); Sanctu- 
ary! Sanctuary!, Sharp; "Economic Value of Our Birds" and "Valuable 
Wild Life," Hornaday (in Wild Game Conservation) ; The Bird Study 
Book, Pearson; The Bird Book, Reed; American Game Birds, Reed. 



THE PUZZLED GAME BIRDS* 

Thomas Hardy 

They are not those who used to feed us 
When we were young — they cannot be — 
These shapes that now bereave and bleed us ? 
They are not those who used to feed us, 
For did we then cry, they would heed us. 
— If hearts can house such treachery, 
They are not those who used to feed Us 
When we were young — they cannot be ! 

Notes and Questions 

Thomas Hardy (1840-1928), "The Grand Old Man of Modern Let- 
ters," was a native of Dorchester, England. He was educated at local 
schools and by private tutors. For about ten years he worked as an 
architect and then, at the age of twenty-eight, turned his attention 
strictly to writing. Success came with his second novel, published when 
he was thirty-two. From then on, for more than fifty years, he wrote 
numerous novels, several volumes of short stories, and, in his later years, 
a considerable body of verse. In 1925, at the age of eighty-five, he pub- 
lished a notable volume of poetry. 

1. To whom do the birds refer in the first two lines ? What past good 
deeds do they recall? 

2. What leads you to feel that the birds are not entirely convinced 
that their former friends are treacherous? 

3. Prepare a special report on "Bird-banding." Sanctuary! Sanctu- 
ary!, Sharp, will be a helpful reference. 

*By permission of The Macmillan Company, publishers. 



94 



HOW TO CATCH A BIRD 

Leland B. Jacobs 

Don't hunt him with a sling or gun, 
For that would surely spoil the fun; 
For when all life has left his breast, 
You then can pick up all the rest — 
A crumpled body, red and small, 
A bit of plumage, that is all. 
You haven 't got his song or call ! 
Don't kill him! 

I'll tell a secret that I heard — 
The perfect way to catch a bird. 
Just get a bird book, called a guide, 
And with field-glasses at your side 
Go out into the woods and see 
The bird perched up in some tall tree ; 
Stop, too, and hear his melody — 
You've got him! 

Notes and Questions 

1. What do you get when you hunt a bird with a gun or sling? What 
do you lose ? Which do you think is greater, the gain or the loss ? Why ? 

2. What advice does the poet give you in this poem? You will find 
The Bird Study Book, by Pearson, helpful. 

Other poems you may find helpful in your campaign for protection 
and conservation of bird life are "The Bloodless Sportsman," Foss, "The 
Catch," Bangs, "Three Things to Remember," Blake, "His Epitaph," 
Flynn, "A Bird in the Hand," Gale, "A Meadow Tragedy," Shorter, 
"Compassion," Hardy, "Stupidity Street," Hodgson (in Poetry's Plea 
for Animals, Clarke). 



95 



THE PLUCKING OF WILD FLOWEES 
P. L. Kicker 

Few persons can resist the temptation to pluck a handful of 
nature's jewels, no matter how rare they may be, and as quickly 
discard their wilted forms along the way. Many of the spring 
flowers, and especially those of the woodlands, are particularly 
susceptible to destruction from too much picking. Compara- 
tively few of the spring wild flowers are so rare in most localities 
that they should not be picked at all in order to maintain their 
normal supply and provide for a moderate increase, but in this 
class should be included practically all of the orchids. 

One may readily judge most other flowers by their abundance 
as to whether they may be picked very sparingly, in moderation, 
or freely. For the extremely rare kinds, certainly not more than 
one flower in ten should be picked and then rarely except for 
scientific purposes. Most of the middle group may have one in 
four or five picked with little danger of extermination. The last 
group includes many extremely bad weeds, together with an 
abundance of attractive flowers, most of which it would be im- 
possible to exterminate if one tried. The greater part of these 
belong in the family with the aster, daisy, and goldenrod. 

Notes and Questions 

1. By what name does the author call flowers in the first sentence ? Mr. 
Ricker is President of the National Wild Flower Preservation Society; 
what wild flower does he say is so rare that picking would mean 
extermination ? 

2. What general rule does the author give for picking wild flowers? 
What wild flowers are so abundant that there is no danger of extermina- 
tion? For what purpose are you privileged to pick even rare flowers? 

3. Make a booklet featuring the wild flowers of your community. 
Select, press, and mount a specimen of each kind of flower. Write a 

96 



THE PLUCKING OF WILD FLOWERS 97 

short descriptive article or find an appropriate flower poem to accom- 
pany each specimen. You will find Flowers Worth Knowing, Blanchan- 
Dickinson, in Little Nature Library, a helpful reference. 

Work-Type and Recreational Reading 

You have discovered by this time that you read for many purposes; 
for example, you read "Ovis Poli, the Great Horned-Sheep," by Theo- 
dore Roosevelt, Jr., to find out where these interesting animals live, and 
how specimens for museums are captured. "The Plucking of Wild 
Flowers," by Ricker, brings to you important facts which you should 
learn for future use. Both of these selections you probably read largely 
for information — to find out some interesting and helpful fact, to 
answer some worth-while question, to follow your teacher's directions, 
or perhaps to select some important point with its supporting details. 
Reading for these purposes we call work-type reading. It has to do 
with our work in discovering new facts and how we may apply these 
facts in our own lives. Thus most of your lessons in history, geography, 
civics, arithmetic, and science call for work-type reading. Almost all 
of the reading that you do in school for the definite increase of knowledge 
may be called work-type reading. 

Recreational reading is simply reading for wholesome enjoyment. You 
probably would say that your reading of "Coaly-Bay, the Outlaw Horse" 
was recreational, because you read it for pleasure. In your leisure 
moments in school, at home, or in the library you choose a good book to 
read for recreation; for example, Skyward, by Admiral Byrd, or The 
Leather-Stocking Tales, by Cooper, are books which were written for 
you to enjoy. 

Throughout life you will find occasion to use both work-type and 
recreational reading frequently, since these types contribute to your 
work and to your play. It is the desire of the authors that you learn to 
read effectively whatever you are called upon to read. Follow carefully 
the suggestions given in your text and by your teacher, in order that you 
may develop the proper skills in reading. 



HEEITAGE 

Arthur Guiterman 

This is the land that we love ; here our fathers found refuge, 
Here are the grooves of their plows and the mounds of their 
graves ; 

These are the hills that they knew and the forests and waters, 
Glorious rivers and seas of rejuvenant waves. 

Fruitful and broad are the billowing plains that they left us, 
Mossy and cool are the trails that we tread as they trod, 

Grand are the ranges and deep are the echoing canyons, 
Holy and pure are the peaks as the altars of God. 

This is our heritage, this that our fathers bequeathed us, 
Ours in our time, but in trust for the ages to be ; 

Wasting or husbanding, building, destroying, or shielding, 
Faithful or faithless — possessors and stewards are we. 

What of our stewardship? What do we leave to our children? 

Crystalline, health-giving fountains, or gutters of shame? 
Fields that are fertile, or barrens exhausted of vigor f 

Burgeoning woodlands, or solitudes blasted by flame ? 

Madly we squander the bounty and beauty around us, 
Wrecking, not using, the treasure and splendor of earth ; 

Only is grief unavailing for glory departed — 

Only in want do we count what the glory is worth. 

Now let us heal and restore where we trample and plunder, 
Cleansing and saving our shallowing rivers and rills, 

Lending new life to the fields we have ravaged and beggared, 
Calling new forests to gladden the desolate hills. 

98 



HERITAGE 99 

Then though we pass from the land that our fathers bequeathed 
us, 

Mountain and river and wood shall our message renew — 
"This is the land that we loved; oh, be faithful, our children! 

Fair was it left to us ; fairer we leave it to you ! ' ' 

Notes and Questions 

1. Describe in your own words the heritage "our fathers bequeathed 
us." Explain the significance of the lines: 

"Wasting or husbanding, building, destroying, or shielding, 
Faithful or faithless — possessors and stewards are we." 

2. If we are good stewards, what shall we leave for the coming genera- 
tions? How may we destroy our heritage for those who come after us? 

3. What "bounty and beauty" does the poet refer to in stanza five? 

4. What four suggestions has the poet made to assist us in restoring 
the damage we have done ? 

5. Read aloud the message that shall be carried on if we do our duty 
toward nature. 

6. Read "Pawning the Heirlooms," by Emerson Hough, in Child- 
Library Readers, Book Eight. Compare this author's views on the 
preservation of our national heritage with Arthur Guiterman's. Which 
of the two selections did you enjoy the more? Why? 

7. What is the meaning of the true "spirit of conservation"? (See 
"The Spirit of Conservation," Paine, in Child-Library Readers, Book 
Eight.) 

8. Give in your own words the significance of the following quota- 
tions : 

(a) "The groves were God's first temples." — Bryant 

(6) "My life shall grow like trees both tall and fair, that rise 

and spread and bloom toward fuller fruit each year." — 

George Eliot 



WILD LIFE AND THE FOREST 

William T. Cox 

William T. Cox, graduate of the School of Forestry, University of 
Minnesota, has had wide experience in state and national forest services. 
As Assistant U. S. Forester at Washington in 1908, Mr. Cox had charge 
of reforestation, timber sales, and forest management of National 
Forests. He was instrumental in organizing timber protective associ- 
ations in New England, the Rocky Mountain states, and the West coast. 

To most of us an animal is more interesting than a tree or a 
weed or a flower. This is true even though the animal may be 
of little use to us and the plant essential to our well-being. 
Foresters have an unusual opportunity to observe the relation- 
ship or balance that exists between the trees and the wild 
creatures of the forest. I have studied this relationship long and 
with much interest, and I have come to believe a number of 
things that may seem rather shocking. 

A forest is not merely a collection of trees. A forest, to func- 
tion properly and to persist, must be balanced. It must have 
trees of different kinds as well as bushes and herbs, mosses 
and lichens, and fungi. It must have an insect population. It 
must have a bird population. It should have game birds and 
game animals. It is sure to have a rodent population — mice, 
squirrels, rabbits, woodchucks, porcupines, and such gnawing 
creatures. Then, last but not least, there will be, apparently 
there must be, the carnivorous animals, the killers, the flesh- 
eaters. 

What a little thing at times can upset the balance of nature ! 
Set fire to the forest on a mountain range, burn over a marsh 
in the springtime when the wild fowl are nesting, blow out the 
rock ledge that for a thousand years has held back the waters 



100 



WILD LIFE AND THE FOREST 101 

of a splendid lake, and you have profoundly affected the wild 
life of a considerable district. These things most people would 
notice. Less conspicuous happenings are occurring all around 
us practically unnoticed, causing the most sweeping changes and 
readjustments among the wild creatures we profess to know. 

Nature seems to control all species through the appetite of 
some living things. If one kind of tree becomes too prevalent 
in the forest as a result of unwise logging, the insect enemies 
(admirers) of that tree wax fat and nourish until they have 
reduced the species to something like its normal position in the 
forest. In the meantime enemies of these insects have increased 
abnormally, because their supply of food for a time was so 
abundant. They now hold the other insects in check and thus 
prevent the complete wiping out of the species. 

The same kind of thing occurs among animals. Mice became 
so abundant some years ago in the Red Lake country that they 
threatened to kill all vegetation over large areas. But foxes, 
weasels, and mink invaded the territory and in one year became 
so numerous that the mice were reduced to reasonable numbers. 
The foxes and weasels then had to feed on other creatures or 
migrate to find a better food supply. 

Take out some of the insects that carry pollen from flower 
to flower, and some kinds of trees would no longer bear seed, and 
would thus disappear. Take out fly catchers and creepers among 
the birds, and in a few years moths or caterpillars would eat up 
the forest. Kill off the woodpeckers, and in a short time the 
bark beetles and boring beetles would girdle and destroy the 
trees. 

If we trap and kill the skunks that feed on turtle eggs, the 
turtle, laying forty to a hundred eggs at a time, would soon 
thickly populate our inland waters and destroy fish life. But 
even the turtle in reasonable numbers probably serves a useful 
purpose in holding the so-called rough fish in check and prevent- 
ing them from destroying our game fish. 



102 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

We know that the heavy-seeded trees, like the oaks with their 
acorns and the nut-bearing trees, were distributed by having 
these heavy seeds carried across country, or from place to place, 
by wild pigeons, ducks, wild turkey, and other fowls, and then 
planted by squirrels. Have you never watched a squirrel plant- 
ing acorns or hickory nuts? He digs the hole, jams in the nut 
or acorn, and then covers it with dirt to just the right depth. 

Suppose we kill off the owls. Many people dislike owls because 
they are birds of prey and possibly because they look so wise 
and say so little. As soon as the owls were out of the way, we 
would have a plague of mice. I prefer a reasonable number 
of owls. 

I know a district where the marten used to be quite plentiful. 
This valuable fur bearer has been trapped out, and his natural 
food, the pine squirrel, has increased to a point where it now 
collects and stores practically all of the pine seed produced in 
that territory. See what the price of fur can do to a pine forest ! 

The fisher is a fine fur-bearing animal and not so very plen- 
tiful anywhere. It is the natural enemy of the porcupine and is 
the only animal that can kill and eat a porcupine without 
danger of serious injury or death from quills. With fisher skins 
bringing fifty to one hundred dollars in the market, would it 
be surprising if the porcupine should feel happy and look 
forward to the time when his ungainly progeny would strip 
the bark from every pine and run the price of lumber beyond 
the reach of the wealthiest contractor ? 

Even the carnivorous animal that pulls down the deer or moose 
away back in the wilderness may be a friend, though a terrible 
friend, of the big game. Look at what is now happening on 
the Kaibab Plateau, Arizona. There, a few years ago, mountain 
lions and wolves were hunted relentlessly by government hunt- 
ers. Now the mule deer, increased to thirty or forty thousand, 
has eaten out the food supply and is threatened with starvation. 
These animals have become so numerous as to be a menace to 
their own existence. They long ago became damaging to the 




p^^^^s*.3^^. .. ^ ' 






iH 



103 



104 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

forest by destroying the little trees. It is a strange thought 
that a few wolves and mountain lions might have prevented 
much damage and headed off the threatened catastrophe among 
these deer by simply keeping the herd down to reasonable 
numbers. 

I consider that in the Izaak Walton League we have an organi- 
zation with somewhere near the right conception of conservation. 
Its members believe in conserving waters and woods and wild 
life all along the line. It is a job that cannot be done piecemeal. 

Game protection and development is futile, without consider- 
ing as fundamental the preservation of the forest and the 
proper management of other wild lands. Game and fur indeed 
are by-products of the wild lands, whether these lands bear 
trees, brush, or grassy cover. 

As a consulting forester and engineer, I like to tell the owners 
of timber lands that, to be safe and profitable, woodland prop- 
erty, like a diversified farm, must have some variety, and that 
a proper balance is required not only among the different classes 
of trees, but also between the tree growth and the animal life. 
Even in a small tract of woodland, the game and other wild 
things constitute one of the assets of the property. In a state or 
the" nation the wild creatures of hillside and mountain and 
stream are not merely useful ; they are a vital part of the forests 
in which they live, and in turn they depend upon the forest for 
their food, their shelter, and protection from their enemies. 

We cannot have wild life without the forest. Nor can we 
raise timber crops successfully without the aid of the wild 
creatures who work close to Mother Nature and who seem able 
to pull our human projects within the circle of God's plan. 

Notes and Questions 

1. Which is more interesting to you, an animal, a tree, a weed, or a 
flower? 

2. Find one or more sentences in this selection to support each of the 
following statements : 

(a) "A forest is not merely a collection of trees." 



WILD LIFE AND THE FOREST 105 

(6) "Nature seems to control all species through the appetite 

of some living things." 
(c) "We cannot have wild life without the forest." 

3. How may wild life be affected by a forest fire? Of what service 
are the woodpeckers'? The skunks? The turtles'? What share do the 
wild pigeons, ducks, wild turkey, and squirrels have in replanting our 
forests ? 

4. How does the wise-looking owl serve man? How may the demand 
for marten fur affect a pine forest? What animal may cause the price 
of lumber to advance ? 

5. What is the conception of conservation held by members of the 
Izaak Walton League ? Explain in your own words why we cannot have 
wild life without the forest. How is the forest dependent upon wild life ? 

6. Summarize in one short paragraph the facts brought out in this 
selection. 



A BACKWAED LOOK 

A merchant from time to time takes stock of his busi- 
ness to see what returns his investment is bringing 
him. It is well for you, too, after having read the selections 
in Part One, to see what profit your study has brought to 
you. Your reading, no doubt, gave you pleasure, the pleas- 
ure to be had from a good story or a beautiful poem. Which 
poets helped you to see new beauty in bird and flower and 
tree? 

As you look at the Contents, page 5, you will notice that 
there are both poets and naturalists represented among the 
writers in Part One. Name five well-known poets and five 
well-known naturalists. What difference do you notice 
between the poet's treatment of a bird subject and that of 
a naturalist, such as Audubon? 

Ernest Thompson Seton not only tells an interesting 
story, but he shows you qualities in Coaly-Bay that will 
make all animals more interesting to you and your treat- 
ment of them more sympathetic. 

Which suggestion for helping to conserve wild flowers, 
trees, birds, and animal life did your class follow ? Mention 
the names of national organizations for the preservation of 
wild life that are active in your community. 

What progress have you made in becoming acquainted 
with your library, the arrangement of the books, the card 
catalogue, and The Readers' Guide to Periodical Litera- 
ture f Are you keeping a record of your library reading as 
suggested on pages 24-25 ? Which of the magazines listed on 
page 36 are you reading? After reading about newspapers 
on pages 55-56, what interesting facts did you learn about 
your own paper? Which of the new books listed on page 
525 have you read? 

106 



PART TWO 

96e WORLD OF 
ADVENTURE 



,Wi 



WM 






THE SEA GYPSY 

RICHARD HOVEY 

I am fevered with the sunset, 
I am fretful with the bay, 

For the wander-thirst is on me 
And my soul is in Cathay. 

There's a schooner in the offing, 
With her topsails shot with fire, 

And my heart has gone aboard her 
For the Islands of Desire. 

I must forth again tomorrow ! 

With the sunset I must be, 
Hull down on the trail of rapture 

In the wonder of the Sea. 



107 



HOW TO BEAD ADVENTUKE STOEIES 

adventure is something we all love to hear about. We 
a\ enjoy our own adventures, the first airplane ride or 
the overnight hike and camping trip. It is thrilling if we 
ourselves can participate in such adventures as a hard- 
fought football or basketball game. It is only less exciting 
if we can sit in the grandstand and cheer and hold our 
breath as the fortunes of our team go up and down. 

This section of our book is just as full of adventure as 
any game or any picture show. There is a great adventure 
in the air, told by Lincoln Ellsworth, a famous modern 
explorer. There are ballads, those fast-moving songs of ac- 
tion that we have already learned to know; and there are 
two extraordinary adventures in the world of fancy, one, 
the best Christmas story ever written, and the other, one 
of William Shakespeare's most exciting and joyous plays. 
- To enjoy all this you need just one thing, the power of 
making mind pictures, which we call imagination. If you 
wish to get the greatest pleasure from reading these selec- 
tions, you must learn to see the stories as though they were 
plays acted on a stage. 

Shakespeare makes one of his characters say to the 
audience : 

"Think, when we talk of horses, that you see them 
Printing their proud hoofs in the receiving earth." 

The same advice holds true in reading. See the story as 
you read, and from these accounts of adventure you may 
have your own private moving, talking pictures. Some 
people never find out this secret of reading. If you do, you 
will have a never-ending source of delight. 

108 



SHIPS OF THE DESERT • 

Alice T. Paine 

This adventure takes you back to the time of the crusades in the 
twelfth and thirteenth centuries. You will learn why the crusaders went 
to Jerusalem, and how they learned about the vast riches of the East. 
You will see how these riches were carried over the old Gold and Frank- 
incense Road by the "ships of the desert." 

You have probably read the story of Richard the Lion- 
Hearted, king of England in the twelfth century, who set out 
with an army of English and French knights on the third 
crusade to the Holy Land to fight the Saracens and win back 
Jerusalem to the Christian world. King Richard the Lion- 
Hearted is the most famous of the crusaders, but there were 
thousands and thousands of men from the British Isles, France, 
Germany, and Italy who joined in the many crusades of the 
twelfth and thirteenth centuries to win the Holy Land from the 
Saracens. 

Now look at a map and find England and Palestine (the 
Holy Land), and see how far apart they are. Then remember 
that there were no railroads or highways, no trains or automo- 
biles or airplanes in those days — nothing but horses and mules 
and men's own legs to carry them where they wanted to go. Why 
did whole armies of men make the long and difficult journey 
from the Western world to the Eastern world, when most of them 
had to walk the whole way ? They had to pass through the thick 
forests of central Europe, where bears and wolves still prowled 
in great numbers. They had to cross the high and difficult Alps, 
where the snow and ice were dangerous foes. When they reached 
Venice, at the head of the Adriatic Sea, they were obliged to 
crowd themselves, their arms, and their horses into the small, 

109 



110 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

frail ships of those days and sail to the shores of Palestine. 
When they landed at such ports as Joppa and Aden, wearied 
with their long journey, they had to fight the mighty hosts of 
the Saracens. Sometimes they won. Sometimes they lost. Many 
were killed in battle, and many died of disease. Thousands never 
saw their homes again. 

W T hat was the reason for the brave, but hopeless, crusades of 
King Richard and the other knights of the Western world ? 

There were two main reasons. The first was that people in 
those days believed that if they made a pilgrimage to the Holy 
Land and visited the place where Christ had lived, their sins 
would be forgiven. So, for hundreds of years, men (and a few 
brave women, too) had been making the long, hard journey to 
the Holy Land. Then when the Saracens captured Palestine, 
they would not let Christian pilgrims enter. To the Christians 
of Western Europe this was a terrible thing, and kings, knights, 
and common people marched in great crusades to win back the 
holy places. 

The second important reason was the spirit of adventure. 
Men in those days were just as eager to explore the whole earth 
as they are today. But during King Richard's time (which was 
two, hundred years before Columbus discovered America) they 
did not even know that the earth was round. Therefore they did 
not dare to sail westward over the Atlantic Ocean, which they 
called the Sea of Darkness, for fear that they would reach the 
end of the flat earth and fall off. So the only way that they could 
go was eastward across the continent. Thus, two hundred years 
before Columbus discovered America, King Richard and the 
other pilgrims and crusaders discovered Asia. 

And what did they find in Asia? When they landed on the 
coasts of Asia Minor and Palestine, they discovered the great 
desert caravan routes leading straight to the magic East. One 
of these was the "Gold and Frankincense Road," a main cara- 
van road leading south from Damascus to Mecca. 



SHIPS OF THE DESERT 111 

Now Mecca is in southeastern Arabia, which is called Arabia 
the Happy because it is fertile and prosperous, and Damascus 
is on the edge of the northern deserts of Syria and Arabia the 
Desert. So the great caravans that traveled north along the Gold 
and Frankincense Road from Mecca to Damascus carried gold 
and incense (frankincense), spices and perfumes, from Arabia 
the Happy to Arabia the Desert. 

Damascus is said to be the oldest city in the world. If you find 
it on a map, you will see that it is on the very edge of the 
desert. It is, in fact, the great market of the desert. Then, if 
you find Mecca, far to the South, you may trace the old Gold 
and Frankincense Road connecting them. 

Other great caravan routes also lead to Damascus. Straight 
east across the desert lies Bagdad, the city of Haroun-al- 
Raschid and the Arabian Nights. Huge caravans from Bagdad 
came to Damascus bearing all the wonders of the far East — gold 
and silver, jewels, perfumes, fine silks, sugar and sweetmeats, 
rare spices, and drugs. 

All these things the pilgrims and crusaders saw in Asia 
Minor and Palestine, and when they returned to their homes in 
the West, they took to the ladies who waited for them gifts of 
rare perfumes and rich silks, delicious spices and sweets, and 
drugs. Every great lady in England in those days had her 
"sweet coffer," a little casket containing the perfumes and 
spices brought to her from Asia. 

Thus all Western Europe learned about the rare and beautiful 
products of the Orient and wanted to enjoy them. Crusaders 
became merchants, and commerce between the West and the 
East flourished. Venice, at the head of the Adriatic, sent her 
ships to all the seaports of Asia Minor and Palestine, and there 
they met the camel caravans from Mecca and Damascus and 
Bagdad, picked up the precious cargos that had come so far 
across the desert, and sailed back to Venice. From Venice the 
products of the Orient were carried all over Europe. 



112 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Now all this commerce between the East and the West de- 
pended chiefly upon the camel caravans of the desert, the hardest, 
most terrible kind of travel ever known, but the only kind that 
made communication between the East and West possible. 
People had not yet learned how to get to China and Japan and 
tndia by sea. There was in those days no Suez Canal by which 
ships could pass from the Mediterranean Sea to the Red Sea. 
Therefore the only way to India, China, and Japan lay through 
the terrible deserts of Syria and Arabia. Farther north were 
the great mountain barriers that men could not cross. So the 
deserts were the only way. In these deserts were killing heat 
and killing cold, hundreds of miles without water, sandstorms 
that smothered men to death, dangerous beasts of prey, and 
robbers that swooped down upon caravans to kill and to steal. 

Men could never have crossed these vast wastes without the 
camel, the "ship of the desert." This wonderful animal seems 
especially made for desert travel. His stomach is provided with 
little pockets to store water, so that he can go for days without a 
drink. His hump provides a store of extra fat, so that he can 
go for days without food. His tough mouth makes it possible for 
him to eat hard and thorny desert plants. His flat, spreading, 
and well-cushioned feet do not sink into the sand as a horse's 
hoofs do. His knees have horny pads to protect him when kneel- 
ing to receive a load or to rest on the hot sand. His long neck 
enables him to see far over the desert and to reach far for the 
scanty reeds and grasses. The heavy lids over his eyes help to 
keep out the blowing sand. His ears are small, and though his 
nostrils are large, he can almost close them with folds of skin 
when he wishes to protect himself in the terrible sandstorms of 
the desert. His arched back can carry a great weight. The milk 
of the camel furnishes food in the desert. His hair can be woven 
into cloth for tents, into ropes, and into warm clothing. When a 
sandstorm overwhelms a caravan, his master can crouch down 
behind a kneeling camel and be sheltered from the worst of it. 



SHIPS OF THE DESERT 113 

Some people say that the camel is gentle. Some say that he 
is savage. Some call him stupid, and others, wise. At least he is 
necessary. When we see the great gray beast swaying along in 
a circus parade, with his head held high above the noisy crowd 
and his heavy-lidded eyes half closed, he looks bored and 
scornful. Perhaps he is dreaming of the days when he traveled 
the Gold and Frankincense Road and endured thirst and hunger 
so that men could have their rubies and diamonds and perfumes. 

The camels of Arabia, those that travel the Gold and Frank- 
incense Road, have only one hump. Farther north in Western 
China and Mongolia the two-humped camel is found. The 
dromedary is simply a lighter, swifter kind of Arabian camel, 
the finest type of camel known. It cannot carry such heavy loads 
as the big freight camels, but it is good for carrying messenger 
riders and travelers who wish to make fast time. From Damascus 
east to Bagdad and still farther east into India runs the cara- 
van route known as the Dromedary Post Road to India, along 
which for many years swift dromedaries have carried important 
messages to India. 

The usual freight caravan travels from six to eight hours a 
day and makes about three miles an hour. The usual camel load 
is about one thousand pounds. Sometimes a caravan is several 
miles long and contains many camels and hundreds of people. 
It is ruled over by a leader who has as much power over the 
caravan as a captain has over a ship. 

If it is very hot, the caravan rests by day and travels by 
night under the brilliant desert stars. Sometimes in the silence 
of the night, a strange musical sound is heard, caused by the 
wind blowing the sand. In some parts of the desert, these 
"singing sands" are very remarkable. When the caravan stops 
to rest and eat, small tents are pitched, little fires are built of 
twigs, and coffee, the favorite drink of the desert, is boiled. At 
night the tiny coffee fires gleam brightly in the darkness. Around 
the coffee fires they talk over the news of the desert and tell 



114 



ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 




stories of robbers and the terrible spirits that are supposed to 
haunt the vast spaces of the Arabian sands. 

There are many robbers in the desert, wild wandering tribes 
who live by stealing from the caravans, so that close guard must 
be kept. Along the great caravan routes are desert wells, and 
these are carefully guarded for the caravans. But sometimes 
they go dry, and then the caravan suffers. The camels cannot 
drink, and the men have to depend upon the water bags. Some- 
times the caravan reaches an oasis in the desert, where there 
are date palms and water and houses. Here they may rest for 
a day or two and refill their water bags. 

Sometimes the journey is so terrible that even the camels sink 
to the ground beneath their heavy loads and can go no farther. 
Then the desert seems cruel, and we see how brave and enduring 
men and camels must be to carry on the commerce of the desert. 

Can you picture a long caravan of camels shuffling their slow 
way over the endless yellow sand under a blazing sun? The 
riders, sitting in the saddles especially made to fit the hump, 



SHIPS OF THE DESERT 115 

sway with the peculiar gait of the camel, which lifts both feet 
on the same side and then both feet on the other side, somewhat 
like a pacing horse. The Arabs wear loose robes of brightly 
colored stripes, which they wrap like hoods about their heads 
and faces to keep out the fierce glare of the sun and the stinging 
grains of sand. What is the caravan carrying in the boxes and 
sacks fastened across the camels' backs? Perhaps it is a butter 
caravan going with the clarified butter of Arabia, carried in 
skin bags, to some desert city. Perhaps it is a caravan of jade, 
taking the lumps of this beautiful stone to the jewelers to be 
carved into necklaces and bracelets of great price. Perhaps it 
carries pepper, cinnamon, cloves, ginger, camphor, or indigo. 
Or it may be laden with cloth-of-gold, rich silks, and fine muslins 
from India. Perhaps it is carrying precious rugs "like gardens 
of fresh colors and soft as the spring meadows." It may be an 
ivory caravan carrying elephants ' tusks to the cities to be carved 
into exquisite shapes. Or it may be full of fine blades of Damas- 
cus steel or leather sleeping mats inlaid with gold and silver. 
It may be loaded with coffee or Turkish paste or other sweets. 

Whatever the camel carries along these gold and frankincense 
roads of the desert is sure to be of great value and of small bulk, 
for the way is dangerous, difficult, and costly. It is a new story 
of "beauty and the beast." The beast carries the beauty to 
the world. 

Many caravans carry passengers as well as freight and bag- 
gage, for people traveling in the desert need the protection of 
the caravan. If alone, they might lose their way and die of thirst, 
or be killed by robbers. But the men of the caravan do not lose 
their way. Their sense of direction is marvelous. Like the 
experienced sailors of the sea, these men who sail the "ships of 
the desert" find their way across the trackless sands in a way 
no man can tell. Of course they can read the stars, but even 
when the stars are hidden and the sand is as blinding as a fog, 
the caravan does not lose its way. The men of the desert can 
read it like a book, with camel tracks for print. 

Today one can go from London to Bagdad in a few days. Near 



116 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Bagdad there is an airport, with regular aircraft service to 
Cairo in Egypt. A railway runs along the old Gold and Frank- 
incense Road to Medina, and electric power performs its wonders 
in the Holy Land. Powerful liners and freight boats make the 
ports of China, Japan, India, and Ceylon to bring back precious 
cargos. But the day of the caravan is not over, and perhaps 
it never will be over. Automobile roads may cross the desert, 
as they do now in places, railroads will connect the great desert 
cities, and airplanes will sail the blue Syrian skies, but in all 
out-of-the-way places, in all the most difficult places, the camel 
caravans will still bring their precious loads to the markets of 
the world. 

Notes and Questions 

1. For what two main reasons did men join the crusades'? What route 
did the English crusaders follow from the British Isles to Jerusalem? 

2. A volunteer may make a blackboard sketch locating Damascus, 
Mecca, and Bagdad. Where was the Gold and Frankincense Road ? The 
Dromedary Post Road? How did these caravan routes receive their 
names ? 

3. Explain why many of the crusaders became merchants. How did 
Venice happen to become so important ? How was the commerce between 
the East and the West carried on? What were some of the dangers 
encountered in crossing the desert? 

4. What fanciful name is sometimes applied to the camel? Try to 
tell ten different ways in which the camel is especially fitted for desert 
travel, using these words as a guide: his stomach; his hump; his mouth; 
his feet ; his knees; his neck; his eyelids; his ears; his back; his hair. 

5. Describe a freight caravan, as to : 

(a) rate of travel (d) coffee fires 

(b) its length (e) appearance of riders 

(c) its leader (/) different kinds of freight carried 

6. What methods of travel are used today in the East ? 



AIE PIONEERING IN THE ARCTIC* 

Lincoln Ellsworth 

Lincoln Ellsworth, one of the world's famous explorers, made a polar 
expedition by airplane in 1925 with Captain Amundsen, which he 
describes for you in this story. They did not quite reach the North Pole, 
but a year later they undertook another expedition, this time by dirigible, 
and sailed over the North Pole to Alaska, a crowning achievement. 

It is fortunate that in the quest of the explorer romance joins 
with reality and that great adventure is found often to contribute 
to the welfare of mankind. It is strange how often big ambitions 
of life find realization from very small happenings. A chance 
acquaintance, an item in a newspaper, may prove to have been 
turning-points in life if you take the trouble to trace things back 
to their beginnings. Take my own case. I am certain I never 
should have gone to the Arctic had I not seen a small news-item 
buried inside one of our dailies, telling of Captain Amundsen's 
arrival in America on a lecture tour. This was in October, 1924. 
I was all packed ready to start for South America ; in fact, I had 
my ticket bought — but the result of a chance meeting changed 
my plans, and instead of South America, I went to the North 
Pole. 

To those of us who participated in both adventures — North to 
88° by airplane and the first crossing of the Polar Sea by dirigi- 
ble — the first, of course, will always be remembered as the 
greater, both because it was the first successful penetration of the 
Arctic via air and because so miraculous seemed the numerous 
escapes from destruction that it prompted the Bishop of Arizona 
to say to me, "Someone, surely, must have been watching over 
you." 

*From Boys' Life, published by the Boy Scouts of America. Reprinted by 
permission. 

117 



118 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Yes, I have no doubt in my mind that such was the case. Just 
listen to them in the order they occurred. But first the purpose 
of our flight with two airplanes must be made clear; neither 
Amundsen nor myself was interested in reaching the North 
Pole, because Peary had already been there. But beyond — lay 
what? Mystery — a mystery as luminous and yet as impenetra- 
ble as its own mirage — enveloped an area twice the size of Alaska. 
But in order to cover this immense area, it would be necessary to 
land at the Pole, to refuel one plane from the other, which we 
intended to abandon, so that we might reach Alaska, 1500 miles 
away. 

We purposely chose five o 'clock on the evening of May 21 for 
our start, so that the sun, which never sets at this time of year 
in that latitude, would be dead ahead in its circuit of the 
heavens ; for we wanted a clear image unobstructed by the wings 
of the planes in order to hold our course by the sun-compass 
and at the same time secure sextant observations for latitude 
upon nearing the Pole. 

As we had no idea upon what we were going to land, only faith 
that we would land safely on something, our two all-metal 
Dornier AVal planes were equipped for landing either in water 
or on ice. 

As we ran smoothly over the ice of King's Bay for a mile in 
our take-off, little did we realize with what good luck fortune 
favored us, for the following year when we again returned to 
Spitzbergen for our dirigible flight, although the same time of 
year, lo and behold ! instead of smooth ice, the harbor was noth- 
ing but a mass of upturned ice-blocks and open water. As the 
total weight of each plane with its load was six tons, we never 
could have taken off from land. 

Everyone was skeptical about our being able to ' ' take the air. ' ' 
Even the designer of our planes, who accompanied us to Spitz- 
bergen, said that the attempt would be suicidal and that he would 
assume no responsibility whatsoever. We attempted no trial 



AIR PIONEERING IN THE ARCTIC 119 

flight before starting, fearful of some mishap ; the control wires 
were stiff ; we had an overload of 800 pounds apiece, and because 
of its weight and cost, carried no radio equipment. Although the 
rivets in the bottom of my plane were torn loose in sliding down 
the steep bank on to the harbor-ice for the take-off, which later 
was to cause her loss, and although we nearly met catastrophe by 
running into King 's Bay Glacier, we did get off, telling the peo- 
ple that if we returned in three hours, to consider it as our trial 
flight; but if we didn't then, they would know we were on the 
way to the Pole. 

They were not informed of our plan to continue on from the 
Pole, and so, instead of sixteen hours, when they expected our 
return, we gave them twenty-five days in which to think it over. 
And what a twenty-five days it was! Our trouble began when 
our trial flight should have ended — three hours after leaving 
King's Bay — when my mechanic, Omdal, passed a slip of paper 
to Dietrichson the pilot, telling him that the rear engine was hot ; 
but there was no turning back now, although ever since leaving 
land, we were being heavily drifted to the westward by a strong 
northeast wind. 

Amundsen describes the flight as ''Just like jumping blind- 
folded into the Universe." There we sat, he in the navigating 
cockpit of one plane and I in the other, with nothing separating 
us from Eternity, so it seemed, but the thin metal bow in front. 
Behind sat the pilot, so far away, it seemed, as to give me a feel- 
ing of utter loneliness ; and I seemed to be floating alone through 
the void like a lost soul, beyond the confines of a three- 
dimensional world. The 640 H.P. Rolls Royce motors above us 
roared defiance to the mystery and desolation that surrounded 
us and broke, for the first time, the silence, since the birth of 
this weird, strange world. With every hour that passed we were 
speeding seventy-five miles farther into the unknown. 

Through rifts in the fog, which rolled beneath us like a great 
billowy ocean, we could see what lay beneath us. First we crossed 



120 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

a great stretch of open sea, then on over an area of loosely float- 
ing ice-cakes — the broken fringe of the frozen Polar Sea, and on 
until, finally, as if by magic, the fog lifted to reveal to our aston- 
ished gaze the great ' ' Polar-pack ' ' in all its glory ; and we looked 
down in wonder and amazement upon the most spectacular 
panorama of snow and ice ever beheld by the eyes of man. It 
seemed to me almost as though it were a sacrilege to intrude for 
the first time upon this serenely beautiful world, and as I gazed 
down upon it, I mutely hoped that it might never be desecrated 
by the foot of man ; but that also is an affair of the spirit. 

Eight hours had passed, and although it was thirteen degrees 
below freezing, still we didn't feel the cold. Directly ahead the 
sun, glowing a dull red, hung like an inanimate thing in a murky 
sky without cheer and without warmth. Could this be the North 
Pole ? Yes, it must surely be, for I saw Amundsen's plane, which 
was ahead, descend and start to circle, and I knew he was looking 
for a landing, but, where among that chaos of ' ' pressure-ridges ' ' 
and upturned ice-blocks which looked as though some prehistoric 
giant had tried to wage war against the Polar Ice? Surely not 
into those narrow streaks and little lagoons of open water that 
nestled amongst the upturned ice, showing so dark green in con- 
trast to the surrounding white ? 

Fortune was kind to us in our take-off from Spitzbergen. Here 
again is where it favored us. While we had flown six hundred 
miles, the exact distance of the Pole from Spitzbergen, our 
heavy drift to the westward of the meridian we should have fol- 
lowed made our "dead reckoning" longitude uncertain, and as 
we, had been unable to obtain an observation for latitude, be- 
cause of the foggy horizon, it behooved us to land somehow, in 
order to find out where we were. Here is where the miraculous 
came in. Both my own and Amundsen's mechanic had just re- 
ported the fuel supply half consumed. Below us lay the first 
open water, big enough for a plane to land in, that we had seen 
in our whole six-hundred-mile journey northward. Surely for- 
tune was kind to us. 



AIR PIONEERING IN THE ARCTIC 121 

Upon landing we found ourselves to be in latitude 87° 44' N. 
and longitude 10° 20' W. Thus our drift of fifty miles off from 
our course, which means a great loss of longitude at that latitude, 
because of the convergence of the meridians at the Pole, was 
responsible for the loss in latitude and the fuel necessary to carry 
us to the Pole. 

After emptying our bags, we began to wonder where Amund- 
sen was. While Omdal kept at his bailing, Dietrichson and I 
climbed up on all the high ridges and ice-cakes we could find to 
scan the horizon with our glasses, but no Amundsen. "He must 
have gone on to the Pole," remarked Dietrichson. "No," replied 
Omdal, when he returned to the plane ; ' ' that 's not like Amund- 
sen." 

It was not until six hours later that, with our glasses, we spied 
his plane, three miles off. Only the bow was visible, tilted up at 
an angle of forty-five degrees above the top of the rough ice 
which surrounded it. Just ahead stood a great upturned block 
of blue ice. Of course we thought he had crashed until he told 
us by semaphore the second day — until which time he had no 
knowledge of our whereabouts — that in landing, his plane had 
nosed up on to an ice-shelf, which accounted for the position in 
which we saw it, just in time to break its momentum and avert a 
crash. He also informed us that while his forward motor had 
back-fired in coming down, he hoped to repair it. Again fortune 
had favored us. 

Each crew now set to work trying to get its plane out of the 
water up on to an ice-cake, so that the pressure from the sur- 
rounding ice-field, which was gradually closing in upon us, would 
not crush them. But our task was hopeless because we had only 
one motor ; after landing we could never start up again the rear 
motor of our plane, which had caused trouble soon after leaving 
Spitzbergen. We did, however, succeed in getting the nose of 
our plane up on to an ice-shelf, but that was all ; for the tail, full 
of water, lay deeply submerged, although day and night we took 
turns in trying to pump and bail her out. Had we not been able 



122 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

to do this, we could never have salvaged the gas-tanks, and with- 
out this reserve supply we could never have returned again to 
Spitzbergen with even one plane, as we finally succeeded in 
doing. 

Although we tried three times to reach Amundsen's plane, the 
new thin ice that covered what water there was between us was 
just strong enough to bar our progress in our canvas canoe, and 
not strong enough to hold us up. But on the fifth day the sur- 
rounding ice-fields, which had been slowly and steadily pressing 
in upon us ever since our arrival, had brought the two planes 
within a half mile of one another. Again we were in luck, for 
the drift might just as well have been in the opposite direction, 
but it wasn 't. We must get over to N-25 with all possible speed 
if we were ever to get back again to civilization. 

With our feet shoved loosely into our skis— for we never 
fastened them on here for fear of getting tangled up, should we 
fall into the sea — we shuffled along, slowly feeling our way over 
the thin ice. Omdal was in the lead, myself and Dietrichson fol- 
lowing in that order. Suddenly I heard Dietrichson yelling be- 
hind me, and before I knew what it was all about, Omdal ahead 
of me cried out also and disappeared as though the ice beneath 
him had suddenly opened and swallowed him. The ice under me 
started to sag, and I quickly jumped sideways to avoid the same 
fate that had overtaken my companions. There just happened to 
be some old ice beside me, and that was what saved me. Lying 
down on my stomach, partly on this ledge of old ice, and partly 
out on the new ice, I reached the skis out and pulled Dietrichson 
over to where I could grab his pack and partly pull him out on to 
the firmer ice, where he lay panting and exhausted. Then I 
turned my attention to Omdal. Only his pallid face showed 
above the water. It is strange, when I think that both these Nor- 
wegians had been conversing almost wholly in their native 
tongue, that Omdal was now crying in English, ' ' I 'm gone ! I 'm 
gone !" — and he was almost gone, too. The only thing that kept 
him from going way under was the fact that he kept digging his 
fingers into the ice. I reached him just before he sank and held 



AIR PIONEERING IN THE ARCTIC 123 

him by his pack until Dietrichson could crawl over to me and 
hold him up, while I cut off the pack. It took all the remaining 
strength of the two of us to drag Omdal up on to the old 
ice. 

Our companions could not reach us, neither could they see us, 
as a few old ice hummocks of great size stood directly in front of 
N-25. They could do nothing but listen to the agonizing cries of 
their fellow-men in distress. We finally succeeded in getting over 
to our companions, who gave us dry clothes and hot chocolate; 
and we were soon all right again, except for Omdal 's swollen and 
lacerated hands. Both men had lost their skis. In view of the 
probability of being forced to tramp to Greenland, four hundred 
miles away, the loss of these skis seemed a calamity. 

I was surprised at the change only five days had wrought in 
Captain Amundsen. He seemed to me to have aged ten years. We 
now joined with our companions in the work of freeing the N-25 
from her precarious position. We were enabled to get the fuel- 
tanks which we had cut out of my plane over to Amundsen on our 
improvised ski-sledge. This reserve supply proved to be our sal- 
vation, for without it we never could have returned home. 

At last we were together again, and the twenty ensuing days 
we spent dragging our plane from ice-cake to ice-cake in the 
attempt to find one big enough from which to take off. 

The mournful sound of the wind blowing through the rigging 
of our plane made us quick to seek shelter in its interior after 
our day's labor. Although our four-walled compartment was of 
metal and heavily coated with hoar-frost, it shut out the damp, 
fog-bound waste in which we were but mites in a colorless waste 
that seemed to reach into infinity. The scanty heat from our 
1 * Primus, ' ' together with that given out by our bodies, was suf- 
ficient to raise the temperature above freezing. The hoar-frost, 
melting, dripped down our necks and spattered into our mugs of 
chocolate, but nothing seemed to dampen our spirits, not even the 
thought of Riiser-Larsen 's fast-diminishing supply of black 
chewing tobacco, which we were now smoking; for was not the 
thought of the warm sleeping-bag, with the ten malted-milk 



124 



ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 




tablets, each man's daily allotment, to munch contentedly as we 
dozed off to sleep and forgetfulness, that of Heaven itself? I 
never knew the real feelings of my companions., for the talk was 
mostly in Norwegian as we sat over our chocolate or pemmican 
soup, but I learned to accept what each day had to offer with 
abiding faith. Spitzbergen was but eight hours away. Maybe 
tomorrow we would be on the way. Thus passed twenty-four 
days, for the open water for which we longed never came. 

On May 29, eight days after landing, we took an inventory and 
found that we would have sufficient provisions to enable us to 
reach the Greenland coast, four hundred miles away, with a ration 
of one-half pound per day per man, providing we started on 



AIR PIONEERING IN THE ARCTIC 125 

June 15. Each man was given his choice either of remaining 
with the plane, hoping for open water from which to take off, or 
of starting for Greenland on June 15. While all were loath to 
leave behind us two powerful engines, that might at any moment 
whisk us home, and start on a forlorn march to Greenland, which 
we knew we could never reach, with thirty pounds apiece on our 
backs and dragging behind us on our ski-sledge the canoe with 
which to cross the open leads, the majority of us voted to go on 
the date set. 

But on June 7, after a search lasting all day and far into the 
night, Riiser-Larsen and Omdal returned to report that they had 
found an ' ' ice-floe ' ' five hundred meters in diameter, the proper 
dimension for a take-off. As the floe was nearly a mile away, it 
was not until June 10 that we succeeded in getting our plane 
safely on to it, and the night of the fourteenth before the snow 
was cleared and ready for a take-off. That night we made a try. 
We required a speed of one hundred kilometers an hour with 
which to rise, but as all we could get was sixty, the plane bumped 
over the course just as she had done so many times previously. 
We spent most of that night on hands and knees shaving off with 
our sheath-knives every hummock and bump that we could find. 
That night it happened to be my patrol. Each night we took 
turns at this in order to be ever watchful for open water, or any 
other eventuality that might suddenly occur. The ice-cake on 
which we rested might at any moment give way and drop us into 
the sea (they were all badly creviced), or a stray hungry bear 
raid our provisions. We never knew what to expect, and it was 
this mental strain that told on us. 

Around and around the ice-cake I shuffled on my skis with my 
gun slung over my shoulder. The mean average temperature 
during the first two weeks of our stay had been ten degrees be- 
low freezing, but on June 2, with the breaking of Arctic summer, 
the fogs descended upon us, the thermometer rose to freezing and 
did not vary more than four degrees during the rest of our stay. 
That night it dropped to three, and in the morning the course 
was as hard and smooth as glass. 



126 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

We dumped practically everything, sleeping-bags, fur 
"parkas," skis, cameras, field-glasses, rifles, and ammunition. 
We even left our boots behind. All we stored in the plane was 
one canvas canoe, a shotgun, two packages of chocolate, and one 
can of pemmican. We got into the plane and started off. She 
bumped for four hundred meters, then rose; our efforts were 
rewarded, and one plane with six men in it left there forever, on 
the day we had actually set, two weeks before, to start on foot 
for the Greenland coast. 

Our return journey to Spitzbergen, which consumed eight 
hours and twenty-five minutes, was a wonderful piece of naviga- 
tion, considering that we had been drifting around in the fog, 
six hundred miles away, for twenty r five days. Our course lay 
straight for the island, but we almost met catastrophe within 
sight of home, when, just after passing the "drift-ice," we were 
forced down into the heavy open sea by a falling aileron with 
only ninety liters (one-half hour's fuel supply) left in the tanks. 
But on we came in the wash of the incoming tide. 

And what a change the interval had wrought in the appearance 
of the solid land, too. When we left, on May 21, Spitzbergen was 
buried deep in snow, but now, on June 15, the barren sun- 
warmed coastline echoed to the shrill cries of little hawks and 
gulls, while deep in the sheltering arms of the fjords eider ducks 
and geese were mating and building their nests, all happily 
oblivious to the kingdom of silence and death that lay so close 
at hand. 

The scientific results, from an expedition that cost $150,000, 
consisted in the exploration of 120,000 square miles of hitherto 
unknown region and the taking of two soundings, which showed 
the depth of the Polar Basin at that latitude to be more than 
12,000 feet, thus precluding the likelihood of any land on the 
European side of the North Pole. But we had had our compensa- 
tions — we had blazed a trail, we had shown the way into the 
Arctic. 



AIR PIONEERING IN THE ARCTIC 127 

Notes and Questions 

In Amundsen, the Splendid Norseman, by Partridge, there is a quota- 
tion from Amundsen that seems almost prophetic : "Ah, if you only knew 
how splendid it is up there. That's where I want to die ; and I wish only 
that death will come to me chivalrously, will ever take me in the fulfill- 
ment of a high mission, quickly, without suffering." 

1. A volunteer may locate on a map or a globe, for the benefit of the 
class: Greenland; Spitzbergen; latitude 87° 44' N. and longitude 
10° 20' W. ; the course from the North Pole to Alaska. 

2. Test your reading of this story by answering these questions : 

(a) How did Ellsworth happen to change his plans'? 

( b ) What was the purpose of the flight ? 

( c ) How many planes were there ? 
{d) Who were the passengers'? 

(e) How were the planes equipped for landing? 
(/) How long did they originally plan to stay 1 
(g) How long did they actually stay? 

3. "Fortune was kind to us in our take-off from Spitzbergen" ; name 
three instances in which fortune favored these explorers. Read aloud 
lines that describe the most thrilling incident. What does the changed 
appearance of Amundsen tell us about the expedition? 

4. Test your knowledge of the facts in the story by answering these 
questions : 

(a) What did these six men decide, May 29, that they would do? 

( b ) How did they happen to change their plans ? 

(c) How long did the return journey take? 

(d) How many miles was it ? 

(e) How many planes returned? 

(/) What were the results of this polar expedition? 

(g) Do you think the results justified the strain and hardships? 

5. You will enjoy reading "The First Crossing of the Polar Sea," 
Ellsworth (in Boys' Life, May, 1928) and "North to 88°," Ellsworth (in 
Natural History, May and June, 1927). Have you read of a more recent 
expedition by Ellsworth ? What became of Captain Amundsen ? 



BONNIE GEORGE CAMPBELL 

High upon Highlands, 
and low upon Tay, 

Bonnie George Campbell 
rade out on a day. 

Saddled and bridled, 
and gallant rade he; 

Hame cam his guid horse, 
but never cam he. 

Out cam his auld mither 

greeting fu' sair, 1 
And out came his bonnie bride 

riving 2 her hair. 

' ' The meadow lies green, 
the corn is unshorn, 

But Bonnie George Campbell 
will never return. ' ' 

Saddled and bridled 
and booted rade he ; 

A plume in his helmet, 
a sword at his knee. 

Saddled and bridled 
and booted rade he; 

Toom 3 hame cam the saddle, 
but never cam he ! 

i greeting fu' sair, weeping 2 riving, tearing 

bitterly 3 toom, empty 

128 



BONNIE GEORGE CAMPBELL 129 

Notes and Questions 

The Ballad. The old folk ballads, of which "Bonnie George Campbell" 
is an excellent example, have come down to us from the far-off past. 
Such ballads are not the work of any one author, but, like the stories 
of King Arthur and Robin Hood, were preserved mainly in the memories 
of men. Some of them were sung or recited to the music of the harp or 
lute by minstrels who wandered from village to village, and from castle 
to castle, entertaining their hearers in return for food and lodging; or 
by the bards and minstrels who were maintained by kings and nobles 
to entertain them and to celebrate their deeds in song. Often these 
ballads were made by the people, not by professional singers, and were 
expressions of the folk love of adventure. Indeed, the best definition 
of a popular, or folk, ballad is "a tale telling itself in song." This 
means that it always tells a story; that it has no known author, being 
composed by several people, or by a community, and then handed down 
orally from generation to generation; and finally, that it is sung, not 
recited. In this way such folk ballads as "Sir Patrick Spens" and 
"Bonnie George Campbell" were handed down for generations in differ- 
ent versions, before they were written down and became a part of what 
we call literature. 

When the invention of the printing-press made it possible to put these 
old ballads into permanent form, they were collected from the recitations 
of old men and women who knew them, and were printed. Thus they 
have become a precious literary possession, telling us something of the 
life, the history, the superstitions, and the beliefs of distant times, 
besides thrilling us with their stirring stories. The beauty of these old 
ballads lies in the stories they tell, in their directness and simplicity, 
in their marked rhythm and rime, and in their use of quaint words and 
repetitions. The typieal ballad-form is the four-line stanza, the first and 
the third lines having four accented syllables, and the second and the 
fourth having three; the alternating lines, usually the second and the 
fourth, carry the rime. 

Many modern poets have written stories in verse which are also called 
ballads. Some of these imitate the old ballads, not only in form and 
simple language, but also in the use of quaint words and expressions, and 
of refrains and repetitions. Other modern ballads are simple narratives 
in verse — short stories dealing with stirring subjects. But while the 



130 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

true old ballad directs the attention to the story only, the modem ballad 
often introduces descriptions of the characters and the scenes. 

1. Who is the hero of this ballad? You will notice that the details of 
his death are left to the imagination. Who mourn him? What do the 
mourners say is the effect of his death? 

2. Make a list of the Scotch words that you could easily understand ; 
of those on which you needed help. 

3. Find four characteristics of the typical folk ballad in this poem. 

LOCHINVAR 

Sir Walter Scott 

Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the West; 
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best ; 
And save his good broadsword he weapons had none. 
He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. 
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, 
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar. 

He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for stone; 

He swam the Esk River where ford there was none ; 

But ere he alighted at Netherby gate, 

The bride had consented; the gallant came late; 

For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, 

Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. 

So, boldly he entered the Netherby hall, 
'Mong bridesmen and kinsmen and brothers and all; 
Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword 
(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word), 
"Oh, come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, 
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar V 

"I long wooed your daughter; my suit you denied — 
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide; 
And now I am come, with this lost love of mine 
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. 



LOCHINVAR 131 

There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far 
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar." 

The bride kissed the goblet ; the knight took it up ; 
He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup. 
She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh, 
With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye. 
He took her soft hand ere her mother could bar — 
"Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar. 

So stately his form, and so lovely her face, 

That never a hall such a galliard did grace; 

While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, 

And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume; 

And the bride-maidens whispered, * ' 'Twere better by far 

To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar." 

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, 

When they reached the hall door and the charger stood near ; 

So light to the croup the fair lady he swung, 

So light to the saddle before her he sprung! 

1 ' She is won ! We are gone, over bank, bush, and scar ! 

They 11 have fleet steeds that follow ! ' ' quoth young Lochinvar. 

There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby clan ; 

Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran ; 

There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee ; 

But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. 

So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, 

Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar? 

Notes and Questions 

Sir Walter Scott was born in Edinburgh, Scotland. He took a great 
interest in the traditions and history of his country. 

Scott seems to have been a great favorite with his elders, who were 
ready to tell him the stories and legends of his native country. He, in 



132 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

this way, came to know the past history of Scotland through tradition, 
and not through books. Much of his childhood was spent in the country 
with country people. He sat at their firesides listening to "scraps of 
old ballads and quaint songs, stories of border feuds and Scotch super- 
stitions." These he made use of later in writing his books. In one of 
these, Tales of a Grandfather, he wrote stories from the history of Scot- 
land for his young grandson. 

As a writer of Scottish legends and ballads, Scott has never been sur- 
passed in popularity. He worked constantly and rapidly, and each new 
book was hailed by his enormous reading public with delight and 
increasing demands for more. 

1. What geographical reference tells you where the scene of this story 
is laid? What names do you recognize as Scotch? 

2. (a) Find a line in the first stanza which sums up the character of 

Lochinvar. 
(6) Find a line in the second stanza which gives the character of 

the bridegroom. 
(c) Find a line in the third stanza which adds to the picture of 

the bridegroom given in the second stanza. 

3. Read aloud the question asked by the bride's father. Why was his 
hand on his sword as he asked it ? What impression did Lochinvar give 
the bride's father by his answer? Do you think Lochinvar was sincere 
in his reply? 

4. Describe the picture the sixth stanza makes you see. What did 
Lochinvar accomplish by means of the dance? What were we told in 
the first stanza that explains Lochinvar's escape? Who are mentioned 
as the pursuers ? What line describes the geography of the region ? Was 
such territory of advantage or disadvantage to Lochinvar? Why? 

5. What characteristics of the folk ballad do you find in "Lochinvar" ? 
Can you imagine the singer of this ballad striking a chord or a run upon 
the harp for the accompaniment of the "Oh" at the beginning of the 
song? 

6. A volunteer may bring to class and read the old folk ballad 
"Katharine Janfarie," found in any collection of folk ballads in the 
library, to see whether or not the class members think Scott improved 
upon the original. Another volunteer may read Longfellow's ballad 
"The Skeleton in Armor" (in Elson Junior Literature, Book One), 
noting the similarity in theme. 



LOCHINVAR 133 

Reading Aloud 

A poetry-recitation contest is held annually at Oxford, England, 
sponsored by John Masefield and others. These contests are for the 
purpose of encouraging oral reading and also for training the human 
voice in the reading of poetry. 

Many of us think of poetry as it appears in lines and stanzas upon 
the printed page; but these contests aim to restore poetry to the human 
voice, that is, to have poetry make its appeal not to the eye, but to the 
ear. "Poetry should be heard and not seen." 

At a recent Oxford contest there were three hundred contestants, and 
the poems read by them were by Wordsworth, Shelley, Milton, and 
others. Many of the contestants surprised both judges and audiences by 
the fine quality of voice, the observance of rhythm, and the depth of 
understanding. Their triumph — the delight of their audiences — con- 
vinced everybody of the loss which we moderns are suffering in the 
neglect of poetic recitation. 

We in America do not pay as much attention to the training of a 
beautiful speaking voice as do the people of many European countries. 
And it is to be regretted that this is so when one thinks of the pleasure 
to be derived from a pleasant speaking voice. Those who heard Mase- 
field read his poems when he was in America will never forget his deep, 
rich tones. 

Your class may wish to inaugurate such a poetry-recitation contest 
to see whether the voice quality and the reading are not thereby 
improved. To such groups Mr. Masefield's notes to the Oxford judges 
and contestants may be helpful : 

"The speech desired by the judges is speech so beautiful in sound, 
so exquisite in perception of the poet's meaning, that the illumination 
of the poet may kindle the hearers. 

"The first requisite is that the speaker should sink himself or herself 
in the poem, not remain outside it. Then it is essential to give full value 
to the music of the poem simply as sound. If the speaker gives the 
rhythmical movement with a feeling for its beauty, full meaning will 
usually follow. 

"The commonest faults are : 1. A kind of meagerness of voice, rhythm, 
emotion. 2. Literalness, draining the words of life and color. 3. Attempt- 
ing to be dramatic where there is no drama." 



JOHN GILPIN 
William Cowper 

John Gilpin was a citizen 

Of credit and renown ; 
A trainband captain eke was he 

Of famous London town. 

John Gilpin 's spouse said to her dear : 
"Though wedded we have been 

These twice ten tedious years, yet we 
No holiday have seen. 

"Tomorrow is our wedding-day, 

And we will then repair 
Unto the Bell at Edmonton, 

All in a chaise and pair. 

"My sister, and my sister 7 s child, 
Myself, and children three, 

Will fill the chaise ; so you must ride 
On horseback after we. " 

He soon replied — * ' I do admire 

Of womankind but one, 
And you are she, my dearest dear ; 

Therefore it shall be done. 

1 1 1 am a linen draper bold, 
As all the world doth know, 

And my good friend the calender 
Will lend his horse to go. ' ' 
134 



JOHN GILPIN 135 

Quoth Mistress Gilpin, "That's well said; 

And for that wine is dear, 
We will be furnished with our own, 

Which is both bright and clear." 

John Gilpin kissed his loving wife; 

O'er joyed was he to find 
That, though on pleasure she was bent, 

She had a frugal mind. 

The morning came, the chaise was brought, 

But yet was not allowed 
To drive up to the door, lest all 

Should say that she was proud. 

So three doors off the chaise was stayed 

Where they did all get in, 
Six precious souls, and all agog 

To dash through thick and thin. 

Smack went the whip, round went the wheels ; 

Were never folks so glad ; 
The stones did rattle underneath, 

As if Cheapside were mad. 

John Gilpin at his horse's side 

Seized fast the flowing mane ; 
And up he got, in haste to ride, 

But soon came down again; 

For saddletree scarce reached had he 

His journey to begin, 
When, turning round his head, he saw 

Three customers come in. 



136 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

So down he came ; for loss of time, 
Although it grieved him sore, 

Yet loss of pence, full well he knew, 
Would trouble him much more. 

'Twas long before the customers 
Were suited to their mind, 

When Betty screaming came downstairs, 
"The wine is left behind!" 

" Good lack ! ' ' quoth he, ' ' yet bring it me, 
My leathern belt likewise, 

In which I bear my trusty sword 
When I do exercise." 

Now Mistress Gilpin (careful soul!) 
Had two stone bottles found, 

To hold the liquor that she loved, 
And keep it safe and sound. 

Each bottle had a curling ear, 
Through which the belt he drew, 

And hung a bottle on each side 
To make his balance true. 

Then over all, that he might be 
Equipped from top to toe, 

His long red cloak, well brushed and neat, 
He manfully did throw. 

Now see him mounted once again 

Upon his nimble steed, 
Full slowly pacing o'er the stones, 

With caution and good heed. 



JOHN GILPIN 



137 




But finding soon a smoother road 
Beneath his well-shod feet, 

The snorting beast began to trot, 
Which galled him in his seat. 

So "Fair and softly," John he cried; 

But John he cried in vain ; 
That trot became a gallop soon, 

In spite of curb and rein. 



So stooping down, as needs he must 

Who cannot sit upright, 
He grasped the mane with both his hands 

And eke with all his might. 



138 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

His horse, who never in that sort 
Had handled been before, 

What thing upon his back had got 
Did wonder more and more. 

Away went Gilpin, neck or naught ; 

Away went hat and wig ; 
He little dreamt, when he set out, 

Of running such a rig. 

The wind did blow, the cloak did fly, 
Like streamer long and gay, 

Till, loop and button failing both, 
At last it flew away. 

Then might all people well discern 
The bottles he had slung; 

A bottle swinging at each side, 
As hath been said or sung. 

The dogs did bark, the children screamed ; 

Up flew the windows all ; 
And every soul cried out, * ' Well done ! ' ' 

As loud as he could bawl. 

Away went Gilpin — who but he? 

His fame soon spread around ; 
4 ' He carries weight ! " " He rides a race ! ' ' 

1 ' 'Tis for a thousand pound ! ' ' 

And still as fast as he drew near, 

'Twas wonderful to view 
How in a trice the turnpike men 

Their gates wide open threw. 



JOHN GILPIN 139 

And now, as he went bowing down 

His reeking head full low, 
The bottles twain behind his back 

Were shattered at a blow. 

Down ran the wine into the road, 

Most piteous to be seen; 
Which made his horse's flanks to smoke 

As they had basted been. 

But still he seemed to carry weight, 

With leathern girdle braced ; 
For all might see the bottle-necks 

Still dangling at his waist. 

Thus all through merry Islington, 

These gambols he did play, 
Until he came unto the Wash 

Of Edmonton so gay; 

And there he threw the Wash about, 

On both sides of the way, 
Just like unto a trundling mop, 

Or a wild goose at play. 

At Edmonton, his loving wife 

From the balcony spied 
Her tender husband, wondering much 

To see how he did ride. 

"Stop, stop, John Gilpin! — Here's the house!" 

They all at once did cry ; 
' ' The dinner waits, and we are tired. ' ' 

Said Gilpin— "So am I." 



140 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

But yet his horse was not a whit 

Inclined to tarry there; 
For why ? His owner had a house 

Full ten miles off, at Ware. 

So like an arrow swift he flew, 

Shot by an archer strong; 
So did he fly — which brings me to 

The middle of my song. 

Away went Gilpin, out of breath, 

And sore against his will, 
Till, at his friend the calender's, 

His horse at last stood still. 

The calender, amazed to see 
His neighbor in such trim, 

Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate, 
And thus accosted him: 

* * What news % what news ? your tidings tell ; 

Tell me you must and shall — 
Say why bareheaded you are come, 

Or why you come at all?" 

Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit, 

And loved a timely joke ; 
And thus unto the calender, 

In merry guise, he spoke : 

1 ' I came because your horse would come ; 

And, if I well forbode, 
My hat and wig will soon be here — 

They are upon the road." 



JOHN GILPIN 141 

The calender, right glad to find 

His friend in merry pin, 
Returned him not a single word. 

But to the house went in; 

When straight he came, with hat and wig — 

A wig that flowed behind, 
A hat not much the worse for wear, 

Each comely in its kind. 

He held them up, and in his turn, 

Thus showed his ready wit : 
' ' My head is twice as big as yours, 

They therefore needs must fit. 

"But let me scrape the dirt away 

That hangs upon your face; 
And stop and eat, for well you may 

Be in a hungry case. ' ' 

Said John — ' ' It is my wedding-day, 

And all the world would stare, 
If wife should dine to Edmonton, 

And I should dine at Ware. ' ' 

So turning to his horse, he said, 

1 1 1 am in haste to dine ; 
'Twas for your pleasure you came here ; 

You shall go back for mine. ' ' 

Ah ! luckless speech and bootless boast, 

For which he paid full dear; 
For while he spake, a braying ass 

Did sing most loud and clear ; 



142 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Whereat his horse did snort, as he 

Had heard a lion roar, 
And galloped off with all his might, 

As he had done before. 

Away went Gilpin, and away 
Went Gilpin's hat and wig; 

He lost them sooner than at first, 
For why ? They were too big. 

Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw 
Her husband posting down 

Into the country far away, 
She pulled out half -a-cr own ; 

And thus unto the youth she said, 
That drove them to the Bell, 

1 i This shall be yours, when you bring back 
My husband safe and well. ' ' 

The youth did ride, and soon did meet 
John coming back amain; 

Whom in a trice he tried to stop 
By catching at his rein ; 

But not performing what he meant, 
And gladly would have done, 

The frightened steed he frighted more 
And made him faster run. 

Away went Gilpin, and away 
Went postboy at his heels; 

The postboy's horse right glad to miss 
The lumbering of the wheels. 



JOHN GILPIN 143 

Six gentlemen upon the road, 

Thus seeing Gilpin fly, 
With postboy scampering in the rear, 

They raised a hue and cry : 

' ' Stop thief ! stop thief ! — a highwayman ! ' ' 

Not one of them was mute ; 
And all and each that passed that way 

Did join in the pursuit. 

And now the turnpike-gates again 

Flew open in short space, 
The tollmen thinking, as before, 

That Gilpin rode a race. 

And so he did, and won it too, 

For he got first to town, 
Nor stopped till where he had got up, 

He did again get down. 

Now let us sing, Long live the king, 

And Gilpin, long live he ; 
And when he next doth ride abroad, 

May I be there to see! 

Notes and Questions 

William Cowper was an English poet who studied law, but devoted 
himself to literature. With Cowper came a new sympathy for nature 
and a love of animal life which we find still further developed in the 
poetry of Burns and of Wordsworth. 

Cowper suffered greatly all his life from melancholy; one day when 
he was feeling depressed, a friend told him the story of John Gilpin 
which she had heard in her childhood. He was so much amused that 
he determined to share his enjoyment with others, and the next day 
he wrote the stanzas. Later, when the merry ballad had attained fame, 



144 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Cowper wrote to a cousin, "I made Mm [John Gilpin] on purpose to 
laugh at, and he served his purpose well." But not alone in Cowper's 
day did he serve his purpose; each succeeding generation has enjoyed 
John Gilpin's ride as much as did the generation in which it was written. 

1. You may tell the narrative briefly, using as a guide the complete 
title of the poem, "The Diverting History of John Gilpin, showing how 
he went further than he intended and came safe home again." 

2. Notice that Cowper has used the typical ballad form of meter and 
rime. What other characteristics of the ballad do you find? The old 
folk ballads were not, as a rule, humorous, but in this modern ballad 
both the story and the language are humorous ; select lines that you think 
especially funny. 

3. In true ballad style John Gilpin's spouse is not described by 
adjectives, but we come to know her rather through a number of 
incidents. Find incidents showing that: 

(a) She managed affairs. 

(b) She was frugal. 

(c) She cared about her neighbors' opinions. 

How many incidents can you find that tell us John Gilpin, too, was 
frugal? 

4. A volunteer or two with some ability to draw may make a black- 
board sketch of the route of the ride, locating, from the information in 
the ballad, Islington, Edmonton, Ware, and, if possible, John Gilpin 
somewhere along the route. 

5. A volunteer may make a blackboard list of American humorous 
writers about whom you have studied, with titles of their stories or 
poems. Part Four of this book and of Elson Junior Literature, Book 
One, will be found helpful. 



THE LEAP OF EOUSHAN BEG* 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 

Mounted on Kyrat strong and fleet, 
His chestnut steed with four white feet, 

Roushan Beg, called Kurroglou, 
Son of the road and bandit chief, 
Seeking refuge and relief, 

Up the mountain pathway flew. 

Such was the Kyrat 's wondrous speed, 
Never yet could any steed 

Reach the dust-cloud in his course. 
More than maiden, more than wife, 
More than gold, and next to life 

Roushan the Robber loved his horse. 

In the land that lies beyond 
Erzeroum and Trebizond, 

Garden-girt, his fortress stood; 
Plundered khan, or caravan 
Journeying north from Koordistan, 

Gave him wealth and wine and food. 

Seven hundred and fourscore 
Men at arms his livery wore; 

Did his bidding night and day. 
Now, through regions all unknown, 
He was wandering, lost, alone, 

Seeking, without guide, his way. 

*By permission of Houghton Mifflin Company, authorized publishers of Long- 
fellow's works. 

145 



146 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Suddenly the pathway ends ; 
Sheer the precipice descends ; 

Loud the torrent roars unseen; 
Thirty feet from side to side 
Yawns the chasm ; on air must ride 

He who crosses this ravine. 

Following close in his pursuit, 
At the precipice 's foot 

Reyhan the Arab of Orfah 
Halted with his hundred men, 
Shouting upward from the glen, 

"Lalllahilla Allah!" 

Gently Roushan Beg caressed 
Kyrat 's forehead, neck, and breast; 

Kissed him upon both his eyes ; 
Sang to him in his wild way, 
As upon the topmost spray 

Sings a bird before it flies : 

"0 my Kyrat, my steed, 
Round and slender as a reed, 

Carry me this peril through ! 
Satin housings shall be thine, 
Shoes of gold, Kyrat mine, 

thou soul of Kurroglou! 

"Soft thy skin as silken skein; 
Soft as woman 's hair thy mane ; 

Tender are thine eyes and true ; 
Ail thy hoofs like ivory shine, 
Polished bright ; life of mine, 

Leap, and rescue Kurroglou!" 



THE LEAP OF ROUSHAN BEG 147 

Kyrat, then, the strong and fleet, 
Drew together his four white feet, 

Paused a moment on the verge, 
Measured with his eye the space, 
And into the air's embrace 

Leaped as leaps the ocean surge. 

As the ocean surge o 'er sand 
Bears a swimmer safe to land, 

Kyrat safe his rider bore ; 
Rattling down the deep abyss 
Fragments of the precipice 

Rolled like pebbles on a shore. 

Roushan's tasseled cap of red 
Trembled not upon his head ; 

Careless sat he and upright ; 
Neither hand nor bridle shook ; 
Nor his head he turned to look, 

As he galloped out of sight. 

Flash of harness in the air, 
Seen a moment, like the glare 

Of a sword drawn from its sheath; 
Thus the phantom horseman passed, 
And the shadow that he cast 

Leaped the cataract underneath. 

Reyhan the Arab held his breath 
While this vision of life and death 

Passed above him. ' ' Allahu ! ' ' 
Cried he. ' ' In all Koordistan 
Lives there not so brave a man 

As this Robber Kurroglou ! ' ' 



148 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Notes and Questions 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, one of the greatest of American poets, 
was born in Portland, Maine. He was graduated from Bowdoin College 
in the same class with Nathaniel Hawthorne. While in college Long- 
fellow developed a great interest in foreign languages and also showed 
marked ability in verse-making. He spent three years in Europe and 
upon his return became professor of modern languages at Bowdoin. 

From Bowdoin, Longfellow went to Harvard University to teach, 
but later he gave up his college work and devoted himself to writing. By 
his many translations from foreign languages Longfellow has greatly 
enriched our literature; but in his own poems he remained thoroughly 
American. The titles, "poet of peace, of the home, and history," and 
"the children's poet," which have been given him, show the nature of 
his work and the esteem in which he is held. Longfellow won recognition 
from the lovers of poetry in England, as well as in America ; and after 
his death his bust was placed in the Poets' Corner in Westminster 
Abbey, where stand memorials to Shakespeare and others who have 
won imperishable fame. 

1. Describe in your own words Roushan Beg's perilous position before 
the leap. What do you think had brought him to this peril? Find lines 
that tell how he gained his wealth. 

2. Find and read aloud lines that: 

(a) Show Roushan Beg's love for Kyrat. 

(&) Describe Kyrat's leap. 

(c) Show the robber's confidence in his horse. 

3. To which one, the horse or the rider, does the greater part of the 
credit belong? Why? To whom did the watching Arab give the credit? 
Compare Kyrat with Coaly-Bay (pages 13-21) ; what likenesses do you 
find? 

4. Why would you call this poem a ballad? What other ballads by 
Longfellow have you read? What does the indention of lines three and 
six in each stanza show about the rime ? 

5. An excellent reader in the class will give the members enjoyment 
by reading Browning's poem "Muleykeh," the story of another splendid 
Arab steed whose owner gave proof of love for him even greater than 
Roushan Beg's for Kyrat. 



"HOW THEY BBOUGHT THE GOOD NEWS 
FEOM GHENT TO AIX" 

Robert Browning 

I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he ; 

I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three ; 

' ' Good speed ! ' ' cried the watch, as the gatebolts undrew ; 

1 ' Speed ! ' ' echoed the wall to us galloping through ; 

Behind shut the postern ; the lights sank to rest ; 

And into the midnight we galloped abreast. 

Not a word to each other ; we kept the great pace 
Neck by neck, stride by stride ; never changing our place ; 
I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight, 
Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right, 
Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit, 
Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit. 

'Twas moonset at starting ; but while we drew near 

Lokeren, the cocks crew, and twilight dawned clear ; 

At Boom a great yellow star came out to see ; 

At Duffeld 'twas morning as plain as could be ; 

And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half -chime ; 

So Joris broke silence with, ' ' Yet there is time ! ' ' 

At Aershot up leaped of a sudden the sun, 
And against him the cattle stood black every one, 
To stare through the mist at us galloping past ; 
And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last, 
With resolute shoulders, each butting away 
The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray • 

149 



150 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back 
For my voice, and the other pricked out on his track ; 
And one eye's black intelligence — ever that glance 
'er its white edge at me, his own master, askance ! 
And the thick, heavy spume-flakes which aye and anon 
His fierce lips shook upward in galloping on. 



By Hasselt, Dirck groaned ; and cried Joris, ' ' Stay spur ! 
Your Roos galloped bravely — the fault's not in her; 
We '11 remember at Aix ' ' — for one heard the quick wheeze 
Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees, 
And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank, 
As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank. 



So we were left galloping, Joris and I ; 

Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in the sky ; 

The broad sun above laughed a pitiless laugh ; 

'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright stubble like chaff; 

Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white, 

And ' ' Gallop, ' ' gasped Joris, ' ' for Aix is in sight ! ' ' 

' ' How they '11 greet us ! ' ' — and all in a moment his roan 
Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone ; 
And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight 
Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, 
With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, 
And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' rim. 

Then I cast loose my buff coat, each holster let fall, 

Shook off both my jack boots, let go belt and all, 

Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear, 

Called my Roland his pet name, my horse without peer ; 

Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, any noise, bad or good, 

Till at length into Aix, Roland galloped and stood. 



HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS 151 

And all I remember is — friends flocking round 

As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the ground ; 

And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine, 

As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine, 

Which (the burgesses voted by common consent) 

Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent. 

Notes and Questions 

Robert Browning was born in a suburb of London. His four grand- 
parents were respectively of English, German, Scotch, and Creole birth. 
His father was fond of writing verse, and his mother was very musical. 
He married the poet, Elizabeth Barrett, and they lived for years in an 
old palace in Florence, Italy. After the death of his wife, he returned to 
England, but spent most of his summers abroad. He died in Venice, but 
is buried in the Poets' Corner of Westminster Abbey, London. 

1. This poem, while without historical basis, nevertheless seems very 
real. What does this fact tell you of Browning's power of imagination ? 
Does he tell what he imagined the good news was? Why do you think 
three riders started to carry this news? By locating on a map Ghent 
in Belgium and Aix-la-Chapelle (Aachen) in Germany, you can tell 
something of the distance covered by the riders. 

2. How does the beginning of the poem give you the impression of 
haste ? What is the effect of the repetition of the word "gallop" ? Is it 
used throughout the poem? Which stanza gives the most vivid impres- 
sion of haste ? Does the meter, two unaccented syllables and an accented 
one, suggest to you the idea of rapid hoof -beats? Do you think the 
rime scheme also helps to produce the effect of speed? 

3. At what time did the messengers start ? How is the passing of time 
noted by the riders ? When did the rider of Roland see his horse for the 
first time during the ride? 

4. Find the stanza that tells the fate of Dirck's horse. Where on the 
way did Joris lose his horse? Find the lines. 

5. To whom does Roland's rider give the credit for carrying the mes- 
sage ? To whom would you give it ? Why ? 

6. Compare the two horses, Roland and Kyrat (in "The Leap of 
Roushan Beg," page 145), as to their appearance, speed, performance, 
rider's treatment and affection, and the awarding of credit as expressed 
in the last stanza of each poem. 




152 



THE HIGHWAYMAN 

Alfred Noyes 

PART ONE 

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees ; 
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas ; 
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor; 
And the highwayman came riding — 

Riding — riding — 
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn door. 

He'd a French cocked hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at 

his chin, 
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doeskin ; 
They fitted with never a wrinkle ; his boots were up to the thigh ! 
And he rode with a jeweled twinkle, 

His pistol butts a-twinkle, 
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jeweled sky. 

Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn yard ; 
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked 

and barred; 
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting 

there 
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter, 

Bess, the landlord's daughter, 
Plaiting a dark red love knot into her long black hair. 

And dark in the dark old inn yard a stable-wicket creaked 
Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked; 
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like moldy hay, 

153 



154 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

But lie loved the landlord's daughter, 
The landlord's red-lipped daughter; 
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say — 

1 ' One kiss, my bonny sweetheart ; I 'm after a prize tonight ; 
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light ; 
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day, 
Then look for me by moonlight ; 
"Watch for me by moonlight; 
I '11 come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way. ' ' 

He rose upright in the stirrups ; he scarce could reach her hand, 
But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burned like 

a brand 
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast ; 
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight 

(Oh, sweet black waves in the moonlight!) ; 
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away 

to the West. 

PART TWO 

He did not come in the dawning ; he did not come at noon ; 
And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon, 
WTien the road was a gypsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor, 
A redcoat troop came marching — 

Marching — marching — 
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn door. 

They said no word to the landlord ; they drank his ale instead ; 
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her 

narrow bed ; 
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side, 
There was death at every window ; 
And hell at one dark window; 
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would 

ride. 



THE HIGHWAYMAN 155 

They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest; 
They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her 

breast ! 
' ' Now keep good watch ! ' ' and they kissed her. 
She heard the dead man say : 
Look for me by moonlight; 

Watch for me by moonlight ; 
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way! 

She twisted her hands behind her ; but all the knots held good ! 
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or 

blood ! 
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours 

crawled by like years, 
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight, 

Cold on the stroke of midnight, 
The tip of one finger touched it ! The trigger at least was hers ! 

The tip of one finger touched it ; she strove no more for the rest ! 
Up she stood to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast. 
She would not risk their hearing ; she would not strive again ; 
For the road lay bare in the moonlight, 

Blank and bare in the moonlight, 
And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love 's 
refrain. 

Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoof's ring- 
ing clear ; 

Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance ! Were they deaf that they did 
not hear? 

Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill, 

The highwayman came riding, 
Riding — riding — 

The redcoats looked to their priming ! She stood up, straight and 
still! 



156 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night! 
Nearer he came and nearer ! Her face was like a light ! 
Her eyes grew wide for a moment ; she drew one last deep breath ; 
Then her finger moved in the moonlight ; 

Her musket shattered the moonlight, 
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him — with her 
death. 

He turned; he spurred to the westward; he did not know who 
stood 

Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own 
red blood! 

Not till the dawn he heard it, and slowly blanched to hear 

How Bess, the landlord's daughter, 
The landlord's black-eyed daughter, 

Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the dark- 
ness there. 

Back he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky, 

With the white road smoking behind him, and his rapier bran- 
dished high ! 

Blood rejd were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his 
velvet coat, 

When they shot him down on the highway, 
Down like a dog on the highway ; 

And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace 
at his throat. 

And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the 

trees, 
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas, 
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor, 
A highwayman comes riding — 

Riding — riding — 
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn door. 



THE HIGHWAYMAN 157 

Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn yard; 
And he taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and 

barred; 
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting 

there 
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter, 

Bess, the landlord's daughter, 
Plaiting a dark red love knot into her long black hair. 

Notes and Questions 

Alfred Noyes is an English poet whose home is in London. He was 
educated at Oxford, where for three years he rowed on the college crew. 
While still a student, he wrote poetry, his first volume being published 
when he was twenty-two. Since the end of his college days, Noyes has 
devoted himself to literature, contributing to many English magazines. 
He has spent considerable time in America, teaching English literature 
at Princeton University, and lecturing and reading his poems in the 
larger cities of our country. 

1. Where is the scene of this story laid? Is the time represented in 
the present or the past ? How can you tell ? How did people travel in 
those days? How do you think the highwayman expected to get his 
"prize" ? Whom does he mean when he says, "if they press me sharply" ? 

2. What are we to imagine that Tim, the ostler, did? How does the 
poet's description of the ostler affect you? How do you think the poet 
wants you to feel toward Tim? 

3. What did the troopers expect the highwayman to do? How was 
he warned? Why did he not remain in hiding after his escape? 

4. Which is more terrible, the death of the girl or the death of the 
highwayman ? Why ? Does it seem fitting that the highwayman should 
meet a violent death? Why? 

5. Alfred Noyes made a very conscious effort for musical effect in 
this poem; notice how he employs rhythm, rime, repetition, alliteration 
(repetition of the same letter or sound at the beginning of two or more 
words close together), and choice words to produce the musical effect. 
Point out striking examples. How does the poet suggest the movement 
of the horse in the third stanza? The movement of the troopers in the 
first stanza of Part Two? 



158 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

6. The poem is full of pictures ; which ones do you see most clearly ? 
Select words that make the pictures vivid. Which comparisons seem 
to you most apt? 

7. Which do you think contributes most to the beauty of the poem — 
the story, the music, or the imagery ? What is added to the story by the 
last two stanzas? 

8. For a discussion of the ballad, see page 129. How many character- 
istics of the ballad do you find in this present-day ballad? In what 
respects does it differ from the old folk ballad? 

9. Alfred Noyes has said about his own poems that they should be 
read so as to emphasize the music; he tells us that sometimes he has 
worked nearly two weeks upon the meter of a single line. One who 
reads this poem should have a beautiful speaking voiee and a fine appre- 
ciation of the imagery and the musical quality of the lines. The class 
members may seleet readers who can give the stanzas worthy interpre- 
tation. Volunteers may bring to class and read "Kilmeny," "Search- 
Lights," and other narrative poems by Alfred Noyes. 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 
Charles Dickens 

It is Christmas Eve, and Scrooge, an old sinner hard as flint, is visited 
by the ghost of his former business partner, now doomed to a terrible 
existence. He wishes to spare Scrooge from a like fate, while there is 
still a chance, and so he has arranged to have three spirits visit Scrooge. 
What these spirits show Scrooge, together with the effect it all has upon 
him, makes this one of the best Christmas stories in the world. You will 
find suggestions for reading this story on page 245. 

STAVE ONE 

marley 's ghost 

Marley was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever 
about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergy- 
man, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge 
signed it; and Scrooge's name was good upon 'Change, for any- 
thing he chose to put his hand to. Old Marley was as dead as a 
doornail. 

Mind ! I don 't mean to say that I know, of my own knowledge, 
what there is particularly dead about a doornail. I might have 
been inclined, myself, to regard a coffin-nail as the deadest piece 
of ironmongery in the trade. But the wisdom of our ancestors 
is in the simile ; and my unhallowed hands shall not disturb it, 
or the Country's done for. You will therefore permit me to 
repeat, emphatically, that Marley was as dead as a doornail. 

Scrooge knew he was dead? Of course he did. How could it 
be otherwise? Scrooge and he were partners for I don't know 
how many years. Scrooge was his sole friend and sole mourner. 
And even Scrooge was not so dreadfully cut up by the sad event 
but that he was an excellent man of business on the very day of 
the funeral, and solemnized it with an undoubted bargain. 

159 



160 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

The mention of Marley's funeral brings me back to the point 
I started, from. There is no doubt that Marley was dead. This 
must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come 
of the story I am going to relate. If we were not perfectly con- 
vinced that Hamlet's father died before the play began, there 
would be nothing more remarkable in his taking a stroll at night 
in an easterly wind upon his own ramparts than there would be 
in any other middle-aged gentleman rashly turning out after 
dark in a breezy spot — say Saint Paul's Churchyard for in- 
stance — literally to astonish his son's weak mind. 

Scrooge never painted out old Marley's name. There it stood, 
years afterwards, above the warehouse door: Scrooge and Mar- 
ley. The firm ivas known as Scrooge and Marley. Sometimes 
people new to the business called Scrooge Scrooge, and sometimes 
Marley, but he answered to both names; it was all the same to 
him. 

Oh ! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge ! 
a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous, 
old sinner! Hard and sharp as flint, from which no steel had 
ever struck out generous fire; secret, and self-contained, and 
solitary as an oyster. The cold within him froze his old features, 
nipped "his pointed nose, shriveled his cheek, stiffened his gait, 
made his eyes red, his thin lips blue, and spoke out shrewdly in 
his grating voice. A frosty rime was on his head, and on his eye- 
brows, and his wiry chin. He carried his own low temperature 
always about with him; he iced his office in the dog days; and 
didn't thaw it one degree at Christmas. 

External heat and cold had little influence on Scrooge. No 
warmth could warm, nor wintry weather chill, him. No wind 
that blew was bitterer than he ; no falling snow was more intent 
upon its purpose; no pelting rain less open to entreaty. Foul 
weather didn't know where to have him. The heaviest rain, and 
snow, and hail, and sleet could boast of the advantage over him 
in only one respect. They often ' ' came down ' ' handsomely, and 
Scrooge never did. 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 161 

Nobody ever stopped him in the street to say, with gladsome 
looks, "My dear Scrooge, how are you? When will you come to 
see me?" No beggars implored him to bestow a trifle; no chil- 
dren asked him what it was o 'clock ; no man or woman ever once 
in all his life inquired the way to such and such a place, of 
Scrooge. Even the blind men's dogs appeared to know him; and 
when they saw him coming on, would tug their owners into door- 
ways and up courts ; and then would wag their tails as though 
they said, ' ' No eye at all is better than an evil eye, dark master ! ' ' 

But what did Scrooge care ? It was the very thing he liked. To 
edge his way along the crowded paths of life, warning all human 
sympathy to keep its distance, was what the knowing ones call 
"nuts" to Scrooge. 

Once upon a time — of all the good days in the year, on Christ- 
mas Eve — old Scrooge sat busy in his countinghouse. It was cold, 
bleak, biting weather, foggy withal ; and he could hear the people 
in the court outside go wheezing up and down, beating their 
hands upon their breasts, and stamping their feet upon the 
pavement stones to warm them. The city clocks had only just 
gone three, but it was quite dark already ; it had not been light 
all day ; and candles were flaring in the windows of the neighbor- 
ing offices, like ruddy smears upon the palpable brown air. The 
fog came pouring in at every chink and keyhole, and was so dense 
without that, although the court was of the narrowest, the houses 
opposite were mere phantoms. To see the dingy cloud come drop- 
ping down, obscuring everything, one might have thought that 
Nature lived hard by, and was brewing on a large scale. 

The door of Scrooge's countinghouse was open that he might 
keep his eye upon his clerk, who in a dismal little cell beyond, 
a sort of tank, was copying letters. Scrooge had a very small 
fire, but the clerk's fire was so very much smaller that it looked 
like one coal. But he couldn't replenish it, for Scrooge kept the 
coalbox in his own room ; and so surely as the clerk came in with 
the shovel, the master predicted that it would be necessary for 
them to part. Wherefore the clerk put on his white comforter 



162 



ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 




and tried to warm himself at the candle, in which effort, not 
being a man of a strong imagination, he failed. 

1 ' A Merry Christmas, uncle ! God save you ! ' ' cried a cheerful 
voice. * It was the voice of Scrooge 's nephew, who came upon him 
so quickly that this was the first intimation he had of his 
approach. 

"Bah!" said Scrooge. "Humbug!" 

He had so heated himself with rapid walking in the fog and 
frost, this nephew of Scrooge's, that he was all in a glow; his 
face was ruddy and handsome ; his eyes sparkled, and his breath 
smoked again. 

"Christmas a humbug, uncle !" said Scrooge's nephew. "You 
don't mean that, I am sure." 

"I do," said Scrooge. "Merry Christmas! What right have 
you to be merry? What reason have you to be merry? You're 
poor enough." 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 163 

"Come, then," returned the nephew, gayly. "What right 
have you to be dismal? "What reason have you to be morose? 
You're rich enough." 

Scrooge, having no better answer ready on the spur of the 
moment, said, ' ' Bah ! ' ' again ; and followed it up with ' ' Hum- 
bug!" 

' ' Don 't be cross, uncle, ' ' said the nephew. 

"What else can I be," returned the uncle, "when I live in 
such a world of fools as this ? Merry Christmas ! Out upon merry 
Christmas! What's Christmas-time to you but a time for pay- 
ing bills without money ; a time for finding yourself a year older, 
but not an hour richer; a time for balancing your books and 
having every item in 'em through a round dozen of months pre- 
sented dead against you ? If I could work my will, ' ' said Scrooge, 
indignantly, "every idiot who goes about with ' Merry Christ- 
mas' on his lips should be boiled with his own pudding, and 
buried with a stake of holly through his heart. He should ! ' ' 

1 ' Uncle ! ' ' pleaded the nephew. 

"Nephew!" returned the uncle, sternly, "keep Christmas in 
your own way, and let me keep it in mine. ' ' 

"Keep it!" repeated Scrooge's nephew. "But you don't keep 
it." 

1 l Let me leave it alone, then, ' ' said Scrooge. ' ' Much good may 
it do you ! Much good it has ever done you ! " 

"There are many things, from which I might have derived 
good, by which I have not profited, I dare say," returned the 
nephew, ' ' Christmas among the rest. But I am sure I have always 
thought of Christmas-time, when it has come round — apart from 
the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything 
belonging to it can be apart from that — as a good time ; a kind, 
forgiving, charitable, pleasant time ; the only time I know of, in 
the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one 
consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of peo- 
ple below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the 



164 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other jour- 
neys. And therefore, uncle, though it has never put a scrap of 
gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, 
and will do me good ; and I say, God bless it ! ' ' 

The clerk in the Tank involuntarily applauded; becoming 
immediately sensible of the impropriety, he poked the fire, and 
extinguished the last frail spark forever. 

"Let me hear another sound from you," said Scrooge, "and 
you'll keep your Christmas by losing your situation." "You're 
quite a powerful speaker, sir, ' ' he added, turning to his nephew. 
"I wonder you don't go into Parliament." 

' * Don 't be angry, uncle. Come ! Dine with us tomorrow. ' ' 

Scrooge said that he would see him — yes, indeed he did. He 
went the whole length of the expression, and said that he would 
see him in that extremity first. 

' ' But why ? ' ' cried Scrooge 's nephew. ' ' Why ? ' ' 

"Why did you get married?" asked Scrooge. 

' ' Because I fell in love. ' ' 

1 ' Because you fell in love ! ' ' growled Scrooge, as if that were 
the only one thing in the world more ridiculous than a merry 
Christmas. ' ' Good-afternoon ! ' ' 

"Nay, uncle, but you never came to see me before that hap- 
pened. Why give it as a reason for not coming now ? ' ' 

"Good-afternoon," said Scrooge. 

1 ' I want nothing from you ; I ask nothing of you ; why cannot 
we be friends V 

"Good-afternoon," said Scrooge. 

"I am sorry, with all my heart, to find you so resolute. We 
have never had any quarrel to which I have been a party. But I 
have made the trial in homage to Christmas, and I'll keep my 
Christmas humor to the last. So, A Merry Christmas, uncle!" 

"Good-afternoon," said Scrooge. 

"And A Happy New Year!" 

"Good-afternoon," said Scrooge. 

His nephew left the room without an angry word, notwith- 
standing. He stopped at the outer door to bestow the greetings 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 165 

of the season on the clerk, who, cold as he was, was warmer than 
Scrooge ; for he returned them cordially. 

"There's another fellow," muttered Scrooge, who overheard 
him, "my clerk, with fifteen shillings a week, and a wife and 
family, talking about a merry Christmas. I Tl retire to Bedlam. ' ' 

This lunatic, in letting Scrooge's nephew out, had let two 
other people in. They were portly gentlemen, pleasant to behold, 
and now stood, with their hats off, in Scrooge's office. They had 
books and papers in their hands, and bowed to him. 

1 ' Scrooge and Marley 's, I believe, ' ' said one of the gentlemen, 
referring to his list. "Have I the pleasure of addressing Mr. 
Scrooge or Mr. Marley ? ' ' 

"Mr. Marley has been dead these seven years," Scrooge re- 
plied. ' l He died seven years ago, this very night. ' ' 

"We have no doubt his liberality is well represented by his 
surviving partner," said the gentleman, presenting his creden- 
tials. 

It certainly was; for they had been two kindred spirits. At 
the ominous word ' l liberality, ' ' Scrooge frowned, and shook his 
head, and handed the credentials back. 

"At this festive season of the year, Mr. Scrooge," said the 
gentleman, taking up a pen, "it is more than usually desirable 
that we should make some slight provision for the poor and des- 
titute, who suffer greatly at the present time. Many thousands 
are in want of common necessaries ; hundreds of thousands are in 
want of common comforts, sir." 

"Are there no prisons?" asked Scrooge. 

"Plenty of prisons," said the gentleman, laying down the 
pen again. 

1 ' And the "Union workhouses ? ' ' demanded Scrooge. i ' Are they 
still in operation?" 

"They are. Still," returned the gentleman, "I wish I could 
say they were not. ' ' 

"The Treadmill and the Poor Law are in full vigor, then?" 
said Scrooge. 

"Both very busy, sir." 



166 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

' ' Oh ! I was afraid, from what you said at first, that something 
had occurred to stop them in their useful course, ' ' said Scrooge. 
1 ' I 'm very glad to hear it. ' ' 

1 ' Under the impression that they scarcely furnish Christian 
cheer of mind or body to the multitude," returned the gentle- 
man, "a few of us are endeavoring to raise a fund to buy the 
poor some meat and drink and means of warmth. We choose this 
time, because it is a time, of all others, when want is keenly felt, 
and abundance rejoices. What shall I put you down for ? ' ' 

"Nothing!" Scrooge replied. 

1 ' You wish to be anonymous ? ' ' 

"I wish to be left alone," said Scrooge. "Since you ask me 
what I wish, gentleman, that is my answer. I don't make merry 
myself at Christmas, and I can't afford to make idle people 
merry. I help to support the establishments I have mentioned; 
they cost enough; and those who are badly off must go there." 

"Many can't go there; and many would rather die." 

' i If they would rather die, ' ' said Scrooge, ' ' they had better do 
it, and decrease the surplus population. Besides- — excuse me— 
I don 't know that. ' ' 

' ' But you might know it, ' ' observed the gentleman. 

"It's not my business," Scrooge returned. "It's enough for 
a man to understand his own business, and not to interfere with 
other people's. Mine occupies me constantly. Good-afternoon, 
gentlemen ! ' ' 

Seeing clearly that it would be useless to pursue their point, 
the gentlemen withdrew. Scrooge resumed his labors with an im- 
proved opinion of himself, and in a more facetious temper than 
was usual with him. 

Meanwhile the fog and darkness thickened so that people ran 
about with flaring links, proffering their services to go before 
horses in carriages, and conduct them on their way. The an- 
cient tower of a church, whose gruff old bell was always peeping 
slyly down at Scrooge out of a Gothic window in the wall, became 
invisible and struck the hours and quarters in the clouds, with 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 167 

tremulous vibrations afterwards, as if its teeth were chattering 
in its frozen head up there. The cold became intense. In the 
main street at the corner of the court some laborers were re- 
pairing the gas pipes, and had lighted a great fire in a brazier, 
round which a party of ragged men and boys were gathered, 
warming their hands and winking their eyes before the blaze 
in rapture. The water-plug being left in solitude, its overflow- 
ings sullenly congealed and turned to misanthropic ice. The 
brightness of the shops where holly sprigs and berries crackled 
in the lamp heat of the windows made pale faces ruddy as they 
passed. Poulterers' and grocers' trades became a splendid joke; 
a glorious pageant, with which it was next to impossible to be- 
lieve that such dull principles as bargain and sale had anything 
to do. The Lord Mayor, in the stronghold of the mighty Man- 
sion House, gave orders to his fifty cooks and butlers to keep 
Christmas as a Lord Mayor's household should; and even the 
little tailor, whom he had fined ^Ye shillings on the previous 
Monday for being drunk and bloodthirsty in the streets, stirred 
up tomorrow's pudding in his garret, while his lean wife and 
the baby sallied out to buy the beef. 

Foggier yet, and colder! Piercing, searching, biting cold. If 
the good Saint Dunstan had but nipped the Evil Spirit's nose 
with a touch of such weather as that,, instead of using his familiar 
weapons, then indeed he would have roared to lusty purpose. 
The owner of one scant young nose, gnawed and mumbled by the 
hungry cold as bones are gnawed by dogs, stooped down at 
Scrooge's keyhole to regale him with a Christmas carol; but at 
the first sound of 

God rest you merry, gentlemen! 
Let nothing you dismay ! 

Scrooge seized the ruler with such energy of action that the 
singer fled in terror, leaving the keyhole to the fog and even more 
congenial frost. 

At length the hour of shutting up the countinghouse arrived. 
"With an ill will Scrooge dismounted from his stool and tacitly 



168 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

admitted the fact to the expectant clerk in the Tank, who 
instantly snuffed his candle out and put on his hat. 

"You'll want all day tomorrow, I suppose?" said Scrooge. 

' ' If quite convenient, sir. ' ' 

"It's not convenient," said Scrooge, "and it's not fair. If I 
was to stop half a crown for it, you 'd think yourself ill-used, I Tl 
be bound?" 

The clerk smiled faintly. 

"And yet," said Scrooge, "you don't think me ill-used, when 
I pay a day 's wages for no work. ' ' 

The clerk observed that it was only once a year. 

"A poor excuse for picking a man's pocket every twenty-fifth 
of December ! ' ' said Scrooge, buttoning his greatcoat to the chin. 
"But I suppose you must have the whole day. Be here all the 
earlier next morning ! ' ' 

The clerk promised that he would; and Scrooge walked out 
with a growl. The office was closed in a twinkling, and the clerk, 
with the long ends of his white comforter dangling below his 
waist (for he boasted no greatcoat), went down a slide on Corn- 
hill, at the end of a lane of boys, twenty times, in honor of its 
being Christmas Eve, and then ran home to Camden Town as 
hard as he could pelt, to play at blindman's buff. 

Scrooge took his melancholy dinner in his usual melancholy 
tavern; and having read all the newspapers and beguiled the 
rest of the evening with his banker's book, went home to bed. 
He lived in chambers which had once belonged to his deceased 
partner. They were a gloomy suite of rooms, in a lowering pile 
of building up a yard, where it had so little business to be that 
one could scarcely help fancying it must have run there when it 
was a young house, playing at hide and seek with other houses, 
and have forgotten the way out again. It was old enough now, 
and dreary enough, for nobody lived in it but Scrooge, the other 
rooms being all let out as offices. The yard was so dark that 
even Scrooge, who knew its every stone, was fain to grope with 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 169 

his hands. The fog and frost so hung about the black old gate- 
way of the house that it seemed as if the Genius of the Weather 
sat in mournful meditation on the threshold. 

Now it is a fact that there was nothing at all particular about 
the knocker on the door except that it was very large. It is also 
a fact that Scrooge had seen it, night and morning, during his 
whole residence in that place; also that Scrooge had as little of 
what is called fancy about him as any man in the city of London. 
Let it also be borne in mind that Scrooge had not bestowed one 
thought on Marley since his last mention of his seven-years ' dead 
partner that afternoon. And then let any man explain to me, 
if he can, how it happened that Scrooge, having his key in the 
lock of the door, saw in the knocker, without its undergoing any 
intermediate process of change — not a knocker, but Marley 's 
face. 

Marley 's face. It was not in impenetrable shadow as the other 
objects in the yard were, but had a dismal light about it, like a 
bad lobster in a dark cellar. It was not angry or ferocious, but 
looked at Scrooge as Marley used to look — with ghostly spec- 
tacles turned up on its ghostly forehead. The hair was curiously 
stirred, as if by breath or hot air ; and, though the eyes were wide 
open, they were perfectly motionless. That, and its livid color, 
made it horrible ; but its horror seemed to be in spite of the face 
and beyond its control rather than a part of its own expression. 

As Scrooge looked fixedly at this phenomenon, it was a knocker 
again. 

To say that he was not startled, or that his blood was not con- 
scious of a terrible sensation to which it had been a stranger from 
infancy, would be untrue. But he put his hand on the key he 
had relinquished, turned it sturdily, walked in, and lighted his 
candle. 

He did pause, with a moment 's irresolution, before he shut the 
door ; and he did look cautiously behind it first, as if he half ex- 
pected to be terrified with the sight of Marley 's pigtail sticking 



170 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

out into the hall. But there was nothing on the back of the door 
except the screws and nuts that held the knocker on ; so he said 
"Pooh, pooh!" and closed it with a bang. 

The sound resounded through the house like thunder. Every 
room above, and every cask in the wine merchant's cellars be- 
low, appeared to have a separate peal of echoes of its own. 
Scrooge was not a man to be frightened by echoes. He fastened 
the door, and walked across the hall, and up the stairs, slowly, 
too, trimming his candle as he went. 

You may talk vaguely about driving a coach and six up a 
good old flight of stairs, or through a bad young Act of Parlia- 
ment; but I mean to say you might have got a hearse up that 
staircase, and taken it broadwise, with the splinter bar toward 
the wall, and the door toward the balustrades ; and done it easily. 
There was plenty of width for that, and room to spare ; which is 
perhaps the reason why Scrooge thought he saw a locomotive 
hearse going on before him in the gloom. Half a dozen gas lamps 
out of the street wouldn't have lighted the entry too well; so 
you may suppose that it was pretty dark with Scrooge's dip. 

Up Scrooge went, not caring a button for that; darkness is 
cheap, and Scrooge liked it. But before he shut his heavy door, 
he walked through his rooms to see that all was right. He had 
just enough recollection of the face to desire to do that. 

Sitting-room, bedroom, lumber room. All as they should be. 
Nobody under the table ; nobody under the sofa ; a small fire in 
the grate; spoon and basin ready; and the little saucepan of 
gruel (Scrooge had a cold in his head) upon the hob. Nobody 
under the bed; nobody in the closet; nobody in his dressing- 
gown, which was hanging up in a suspicious attitude against the 
wall. Lumber room as usual. Old fireguard, old shoes, two fish 
baskets, washing-stand on three legs, and a poker. 

Quite satisfied, he closed his door and locked himself in; 
double-locked himself in, which was not his custom. Thus se- 
cured against surprise, he took off his cravat, put on his dressing- 
gown and slippers and his nightcap, and sat down before the 
fire to take his gruel. 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 171 

It was a very low fire indeed ; nothing on such a bitter night. 
He was obliged to sit close to it, and brood over it, before 
he could extract the least sensation of warmth from such 
a handful of fuel. The fireplace was an old one, built by 
some Dutch merchant long ago, and paved all round with 
quaint Dutch tiles, designed to illustrate the Scriptures. 
There were Cains and Abels, Pharaoh's daughters, Queens of 
Sheba, angelic messengers descending through the air on clouds 
like feather beds, Abrahams, Belshazzars, Apostles putting off to 
sea in butter boats, hundreds of figures, to attract his thoughts ; 
and yet that face of Marley, seven years dead, came like the an- 
cient prophet's rod, and swallowed up the whole. If each smooth 
tile had been a blank at first, with power to shape some picture 
on its surface from the disjointed fragments of his thoughts, 
there would have been a copy of Marley 's head on every one. 

' ■ Humbug ! ' ' said Scrooge, and walked across the room. 

After several turns, he sat down again. As he threw his head 
back in the chair, his glance happened to rest upon^a bell, a dis- 
used bell, that hung in the room, and communicated for some 
purpose, now forgotten, with a chamber in the highest story of 
the building. It was with great astonishment, and with a strange, 
inexplicable dread, that as he looked, he saw this bell begin to 
swing. It swung so softly in the outset that it scaroely made a 
sound ; but soon it rang out loudly, and so did every bell in the 
house. 

This might have lasted half a minute, or a minute, but it 
seemed an hour. The bells ceased as they had begun, together. 
They were succeeded by a clanking noise, deep down below, as 
if some person were dragging a heavy chain over the casks in the 
wine merchant's cellar. Scrooge then remembered to have heard 
that ghosts in haunted houses were described as dragging chains. 

The cellar door flew open with a booming sound, and then he 
heard the noise much louder, on the floors below; then coming 
up the stairs ; then coming straight toward his door. 

* ' It 's humbug still ! ' ' said Scrooge. ' ' I won 't believe it. ' ' 

His color changed though, when, without a pause, it came on 



172 



ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 




through the heavy door, and passed into the room before his eyes. 
Upon its coming in, the dying flame leaped up, as though it 
cried, ' l I know him ! Marley 's Ghost ! ' ' and fell again. 

The same face; the very same. Marley in his pigtail, usual 
waistcoat, tights, and boots; the tassels on the latter bristling, 
like his pigtail, and his coat skirts, and the hair upon his head. 
The chain he drew was clasped about his middle. It was long, 
and wound about him like a tail; and it was made (for Scrooge 
observed it closely) of cash boxes, keys, padlocks, ledgers, deeds, 
and heavy purses wrought in steel. His body was transparent ; so 
that Scrooge, observing him, and looking through his waistcoat, 
could see the two buttons on his coat behind. 

Scrooge had often heard it said that Marley had no bowels, 
but he had never believed it until now. 

No, nor did he believe it even now. Though he looked the 
phantom through and through, and saw it standing before him ; 
though he felt the chilling influence of its death-cold eyes, and 
marked the very texture of the folded kerchief bound about its 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 173 

head and chin, which wrapper he had not observed before; he 
was still incredulous, and fought against his senses. 

''How now!" said Scrooge, caustic and cold as ever. "What 
do you want with me?" 

1 ' Much ! ' ' — Marley 's voice, no doubt about it. 

"Who are you?" 

"Ask me who I was." 

"Who were you then?" said Scrooge, raising his voice. 

"In life I was your partner, Jacob Marley." 

1 ' Can you — can you sit down ? ' ' asked Scrooge, looking doubt- 
fully at him. 

"lean." 

"Do it then." 

Scrooge asked the question, because he didn't know whether 
a ghost so transparent might find himself in a condition to take 
a chair ; and felt that in the event of its being impossible, it might 
involve the necessity of an embarrassing explanation. But the 
Ghost sat down on the opposite side of the fireplace, as if he were 
quite used to it. 

"You don't believe in me," observed the Ghost. 

"I don't," said Scrooge. 

1 ' What evidence would you have of my reality beyond that of 
your senses?" 

"I don't know," said Scrooge. 

"Why do you doubt your senses?" 

"Because," said Scrooge, "a little thing affects them. A slight 
disorder of the stomach makes them cheats. You may be an un- 
digested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a frag- 
ment of an underdone potato. There's more of gravy than of 
grave about you, whatever you are ! ' ' 

Scrooge was not much in the habit of cracking jokes, nor did 
he feel, in his heart, by any means waggish then. The truth is, 
that he tried to be smart as a means of distracting his own at- 
tention and keeping down his terror ; for the Specter 's voice dis- 
turbed the very marrow in his bones. 

To sit staring at those fixed, glazed eyes in silence for a mo- 



174 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

ment would play, Scrooge felt, the very deuce with him. There 
was something very awful, too, in the Specter's being provided 
with an infernal atmosphere of its own. Scrooge could not feel 
it himself, but this was clearly the case ; for though the Ghost sat 
perfectly motionless, its hair, skirts, and tassels were still agi- 
tated as by the hot vapor from an oven. 

"You see this toothpick!" said Scrooge, returning quickly to 
the charge, for the reason just assigned; and wishing, though 
it were only for a second, to divert the Vision's stony gaze from 
himself. 

"I do," replied the Ghost. 

"You are not looking at it/' said Scrooge. 

"But I see it," said the Ghost, "notwithstanding." 

' ' Well ! ' ' returned Scrooge. ' ' I have but to swallow this, and 
be for the rest of my days persecuted by a legion of goblins, all 
of my own creation. Humbug, I tell you — humbug ! ' ' 

At this the Spirit raised a frightful cry, and shook its chain 
with such a dismal and appalling noise that Scrooge held on tight 
to his chair to save himself from falling in a swoon. But how 
much greater was his horror, when, on the Phantom's taking 
off the bandage round its head, as if it were too warm to wear 
indoors, its lower jaw dropped down upon its breast ! 

Scrooge fell upon his knees and clasped his hands before his 
face. 

1 1 Mercy ! " he said. ' ' Dreadful Apparition, why do you trouble 
me?" 

* ' Man of the worldly mind ! ' ' replied the Ghost, ' ' do you be- 
lieve in me or not ? ' ' 

"I do," said Scrooge. "I must. But why do spirits walk the 
earth, and why do they come tome?" 

"It is required of every man, ' ' the Ghost returned, ' ' that the 
spirit within him should walk abroad among his fellow-men, 
and travel far and wide ; and if that spirit goes not forth in life, 
it is condemned to do so after death. It is doomed to wander 
through the world — oh, woe is me ! — and witness what it cannot 
share, but might have shared on earth, and turned to happiness !" 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 175 

Again the Specter raised a cry, and shook its chain, and wrung 
its shadowy hands. 

1 ' You are fettered, ' ' said Scrooge, trembling. ■ ' Tell me why ? ' ' 

"I wear the chain I forged in life," replied the Ghost. "I 
made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my 
own free will, and of my own free will I wore it. Is its pattern 
strange to you?" 

Scrooge trembled more and more. 

1 'Or would you know/' pursued the Ghost, "the weight and 
length of the strong coil you bear yourself ? It was full as heavy 
and as long as this, seven Christmas Eves ago. You have labored 
on it since. It is a ponderous chain!" 

Scrooge glanced about him on the floor, in the expectation of 
finding himself surrounded by some fifty or sixty fathoms of 
iron cable j but he could see nothing. 

"Jacob," he said imploringly. "Old Jacob Marley, tell me 
more. Speak comfort to me, Jacob." 

"I have none to give," the Ghost replied. "It comes from 
other regions, Ebenezer Scrooge, and is conveyed by other min- 
isters, to other kinds of men. Nor can I tell you what I would. A 
very little more is all permitted to me. I cannot rest, I cannot 
stay, I cannot linger anywhere. My spirit never walked beyond 
our countinghouse — mark me ! — in life my spirit never roved be- 
yond the narrow limits of our money-changing hole ; and weary 
journeys lie before me!" 

It was a habit with Scrooge, whenever he became thoughtful, to 
put his hands in his breeches pockets. Pondering on what the 
Ghost had said, he did so now, but without lifting up his eyes or 
getting off his knees. 

"You must have been very slow about it, Jacob," Scrooge ob- 
served, in a business-like manner, though with humility and 
deference. 

"Slow!" the Ghost repeated. 

"Seven years dead," mused Scrooge. "And traveling all the 
time!" 

"The whole time," said the Ghost. "No rest, no peace." 



176 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

"You travel fast?" asked Scrooge. 

1 1 On the wings of the wind, ' ' replied the Ghost. 

' ' You might have got over a great quantity of ground in seven 
years," said Scrooge. 

The Ghost, on hearing this, set up another cry, and clanked 
its chain hideously in the dead silence of the night. 

"Oh! captive, bound and double-ironed," cried the Phantom, 
' ' not to know that ages of incessant labor, by immortal creatures, 
for this earth, must pass into eternity before the good of which 
it is susceptible is all developed. Not to know that any Christian 
spirit working kindly in its little sphere, whatever it may be, will 
find its mortal life too short for its vast means of usefulness. Not 
to know that no space of regret can make amends for one life 's 
opportunity misused ! Yet such was I ! Oh ! such was I ! " 

"But you were always a good man of business, Jacob," fal- 
tered Scrooge, who now began to apply this to himself. 

"Business!" cried the Ghost, wringing its hands again. 
"Mankind was my business. The common welfare was my busi- 
ness; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence were all my 
business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in 
the comprehensive ocean of my business ! ' ' 

It held up its chain at arm's length, as if that were the cause 
of all its unavailing grief, and flung it heavily upon the ground 
again. 

' ' At this time of the rolling year, ' ' the Specter said, ' * I suffer 
most. Why did I walk through crowds of fellow-beings with my 
eyes turned down, and never raise them to that blessed Star 
which led the Wise Men to a poor abode ! Were there no poor 
homes to which its light would have conducted me I" 

Scrooge was very much dismayed to hear the Specter going on 
at this rate, and began to quake exceedingly. 

"Hear me!" cried the Ghost. "My time is nearly gone." 

' ' I will, ' ' said Scrooge. ' ' But don 't be hard upon me ! Don 't 
be flowery, Jacob ! Pray ! ' ' 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 177 

' 'How it is that I appear before you in a shape that you can 
see, I may not tell. I have sat invisible beside you many and 
many a day." 

It was not an agreeable idea. Scrooge shivered, and wiped 
the perspiration from his brow. 

"That is no light part of my penance," pursued the Ghost. 
1 ' I am here tonight to warn you that you have yet a chance and 
hope of escaping my fate. A chance and hope of my procuring, 
Ebenezer." 

"You were always a good friend to me," said Scrooge. 
"Thank'ee!" 

"You will be haunted," resumed the Ghost, "by Three 
Spirits." 

Scrooge's countenance fell almost as low as the Ghost's had 
done. 

' ' Is that the chance and hope you mentioned, Jacob ? " he de- 
manded, in a faltering voice. 

"It is." 

"I — I think I'd rather not," said Scrooge. 

"Without their visits," said the Ghost, "you cannot hope to 
shun the path I tread. Expect the first tomorrow when the bell 
tolls one." 

"Couldn't I take 'em all at once, and have it over, Jacob?" 
hinted Scrooge. 

"Expect the second on the next night at the same hour. The 
third upon the next night when the last stroke of twelve has 
ceased to vibrate. Look to see me no more; and look that, for 
your own sake, you remember what has passed between us ! " 

When it had said these words, the Specter took its wrapper 
from the table, and bound it round its head, as before. Scrooge 
knew this by the smart sound its teeth made when the jaws were 
brought together by the bandage. He ventured to raise his eyes 
again, and found his supernatural visitor confronting him in an 
erect attitude, with its chain wound over and about its arm. 



178 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

The Apparition walked backward from him ; and at every step 
it took, the window raised itself a little, so that when the Specter 
reached it, it was wide open. It beckoned Scrooge to approach, 
which he did. When they were within two paces of each other, 
Marley's Ghost held up its hand, warning him to come no 
nearer. Scrooge stopped. 

Not so much in obedience as in surprise and fear ; for on the 
raising of the hand, he became sensible of confused noises in the 
air ; incoherent sounds of lamentation and regret ; wailings inex- 
pressibly sorrowful and self -accusatory. The Specter, after listen- 
ing for a moment, joined in the mournful dirge, and floated out 
upon the bleak, dark night. 

Scrooge followed to the window, desperate in his curiosity. He 
looked out. 

The air was filled with phantoms, wandering hither and 
thither in restless haste, and moaning as they went. Every one 
of them wore chains like Marley's Ghost; some few (they might 
be guilty governments) were linked together; none were free. 
Many had been personally known to Scrooge in their lives. He 
had been quite familiar with one old ghost, in a white waistcoat, 
with a monstrous iron safe attached to its ankle, who cried pite- 
ously at being unable to assist a wretched woman with an infant, 
whom it saw below, upon a doorstep. The misery with them all 
was, clearly, that they sought to interfere, for good, in human 
matters, and had lost the power forever. 

Whether these creatures faded into mist, or mist enshrouded 
them, he could not tell. But they and their spirit voices faded 
together; and the night became as it had been when he walked 
home. 

Scrooge closed the window, and examined the door by which 
the Ghost had entered. It was double-locked, as he had locked it 
with his own hands, and the bolts were undisturbed. He tried to 
say "Humbug!" but stopped at the first syllable. And being, 
from the emotion he had undergone, or the fatigue of the day, or 
his glimpse of the Invisible World, or the dull conversation of 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 179 

the Ghost, or the lateness of the hour, much in need of repose, he 
went straight to bed, without undressing, and fell asleep upon the 
instant. 

STAYE TWO 

THE FIRST OF THE THREE SPIRITS 

When Scrooge awoke, it was so dark that, looking out of bed, 
he could scarcely distinguish the transparent window from the 
opaque walls of his chamber. He was endeavoring to pierce the 
darkness with his ferret eyes, when the chimes of a neighboring 
church struck the four quarters. So he listened for the hour. 

To his great astonishment the heavy bell went on from six to 
seven, and from seven to eight, and regularly up to twelve ; then 
stopped. Twelve! It was past two when he went to bed. The 
clock was wrong. An icicle must have got into the works. Twelve ! 

He touched the spring of his repeater to correct this most pre- 
posterous clock. Its rapid little pulse beat twelve ; and stopped. 

"Why, it isn't possible," said Scrooge, "that I can have slept 
through a whole day and far into another night. It isn't possible 
that anything has happened to the sun, and this is twelve at 
noon ! ' ' 

The idea being an alarming one, he scrambled out of bed and 
groped his way to the window. He was obliged to rub the frost 
off with the sleeve of his dressing-gown before he could see any- 
thing ; and could see very little then. All he could make out was 
that it was still very foggy and extremely cold, and that there 
was no noise of people running to and fro and making a great 
stir, as there unquestionably would have been if night had beaten 
off bright day and taken possession of the world. 

Scrooge went to bed again, and thought, and thought, and 
thought it over and over and over, and could make nothing of it. 
The more he thought, the more perplexed he was ; and the more 
he endeavored not to think, the more he thought. Marley's Ghost 
bothered him exceedingly. Every time he resolved within him- 



180 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

self, after mature inquiry, that it was all a dream, his mind flew 
back again, like a strong spring released, to its first position, 
and presented the same problem to be worked all through, "Was 
it a dream or not?" 

Scrooge lay in this state until the chimes had gone three quar- 
ters more, when he remembered, on a sudden, that the Ghost had 
warned him of a visitation when the bell tolled one. He resolved 
to lie awake until the hour was passed ; and, considering that he 
could no more go to sleep than go to heaven, this was perhaps the 
wisest resolution in his power. 

The quarter was so long that he was more than once convinced 
he must have sunk into a doze unconsciously, and missed the 
clock. At length it broke upon his listening ear. 

"Ding, dong!" 

"A quarter-past," said Scrooge. 

"Ding, dong!" 

"Half -past!" said Scrooge. 

"Ding, dong!" 

"A quarter to it," said Scrooge. 

"Ding, dong!" 

' ' The hour itself, ' ' said Scrooge, triumphantly, ' ' and nothing 
else!" 

He spoke before the hour bell sounded, which it now did with a 
deep, dull, hollow, melancholy One. Light flashed up in the room 
upon the instant, and the curtains of his bed were drawn aside. 

The curtains of his bed were drawn aside, I tell you, by a 
hand. Not the curtains at his feet, nor the curtains at his back, 
but those to which his face was addressed. The curtains of his 
bed were drawn aside; and Scrooge, starting up into a half- 
recumbent attitude, found himself face to face with the un- 
earthly visitor who drew them ; as close to it as I am now to you, 
and I am standing in the spirit at your elbow. 

It was a strange figure — like a child ; yet not so like a child as 
like an old man, viewed through some supernatural medium, 
which gave him the appearance of having receded from the view, 
and being diminished to a child's proportions. Its hair, which 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 181 

hung about its neck and down its back, was white as if with age ; 
and yet the face had not a wrinkle in it, and the tenderest bloom 
was on the skin. The arms were very long and muscular; the 
hands the same, as if its hold were of uncommon strength. Its 
legs and feet, most delicately formed, were, like those upper 
members, bare. It wore a tunic of the purest white ; and round 
its waist was bound a lustrous belt, the sheen of which was beau- 
tiful. It held a branch of fresh green holly in its hand ; and, in 
singular contradiction of that wintry emblem, had its dress 
trimmed with summer flowers. But the strangest thing about it 
was that from the crown of its head there sprang a bright clear 
jet of light, by which all this was visible ; and which was doubt- 
less the occasion of its using, in its duller moments, a great ex- 
tinguisher for a cap, which it now held under its arm. 

Even this, though, when Scrooge looked at it with increasing 
steadiness, was not its strangest quality. For, as its belt sparkled 
and glittered now in one part and now in another, and what was 
light one instant at another time was dark, so the figure itself 
fluctuated in its distinctness ; being now a thing with one arm, 
now with one leg, now with twenty legs, now a pair of legs with- 
out a head, now a head without a body ; of which dissolving parts 
no outline would be visible in the dense gloom wherein they 
melted away. And in the very wonder of this, it would be itself 
again, distinct and clear as ever. 

"Are you the Spirit, sir, whose coming was foretold to me?" 
asked Scrooge. 

"I am!" 

The voice was soft and gentle. Singularly low, as if instead of 
being so close beside him, it were at a distance. 

"Who and what are you?" Scrooge demanded. 

' ' I am the Ghost of Christmas Past. ' ' 

1 ' Long past ? ' ' inquired Scrooge. 

"No. Your past." 

Perhaps Scrooge could not have told anybody why, if any- 
body could have asked him, but he had a special desire to see the 
Spirit in his cap, and begged him to be covered. 



182 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

"What!" exclaimed the Ghost, "would you so soon put out, 
with worldly hands, the light I give? Is it not enough that you 
are one of those whose passions made this cap, and force me 
through whole trains of years to wear it low upon my brow ? ' ' 

Scrooge reverently disclaimed all intention to offend, or any 
knowledge of having willfully "bonneted" the Spirit at any 
period of his life. He then made bold to inquire what business 
brought him there. 

* * Your welfare ! ' ' said the Ghost. 

Serooge expressed himself much obliged, but could not help 
thinking that a night of unbroken rest would have been more 
conducive to that end. The Spirit must have heard him thinking, 
for it said, immediately: 

"Your reclamation, then. Take heed!" 

It put out its strong hand as it spoke, and clasped him gently 
by the arm. ' ' Rise ! and walk with me!" 

It would have been in vain for Scrooge to plead that the 
weather and the hour were not adapted to pedestrian purposes ; 
that bed was warm, and the thermometer a long way below freez- 
ing ; that he was clad but lightly in his slippers, dressing-gown, 
and nightcap ; and that he had a cold upon him at that time. The 
grasp, though gentle as a woman's hand, was not to be resisted. 
He rose ; but, finding that the Spirit made toward the window, 
clasped its robe in supplication. 

1 ' I am a mortal, ' ' Serooge remonstrated, ' ' and liable to fall. ' ' 

"Bear but a touch of my hand there," said the Spirit, laying 
it upon his heart, ' ' and you shall be upheld in more than this ! ' ' 

As the words were spoken, they passed through the wall, and 
stood upon an open country road with fields on either hand. 
The city had entirely vanished. Not a vestige of it was to be 
seen. The darkness and the mist had vanished with it, for it was 
a clear, cold, winter day, with snow upon the ground. 

"Good heavens!" said Scrooge, clasping his hands together, 
as he looked about him. "I was bred in this place. I was a boy 
here!" 

The Spirit gazed upon him mildly. Its gentle touch, though it 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 183 

had been light and instantaneous, appeared still present to the 
old man's sense of feeling. He was conscious of a thousand odors 
floating in the air, each one connected with a thousand thoughts, 
and hopes, and joys, and cares, long, long forgotten ! 

' ' Your lip is trembling, ' ' said the Ghost. ' ' And what is that 
upon your cheek ? ' ' 

Scrooge muttered, with an unusual catching in his voice, that 
it was a pimple; and begged the Ghost to lead him where he 
would. "You recollect the way?" inquired the Spirit. 

"Remember it!" cried Scrooge with fervor — "I could walk it 
blindfold." 

"Strange to have forgotten it for so many years!" observed 
the Ghost. "Let us go on." 

They walked along the road, Scrooge recognizing every gate, 
and post, and tree, until a little market-town appeared in the 
distance, with its bridge, its church, and winding river. Some 
shaggy ponies now were seen trotting toward them with boys 
upon their backs, who called to other boys in country gigs and 
carts, driven by farmers. All these boys were in great spirits, and 
shouted to each other, until the broad fields were so full of merry 
music that the crisp air laughed to hear it. 

' ' These are but shadows of the things that have been, ' ' said the 
Ghost. "They have no consciousness of us." 

The jocund travelers came on ; and as they came, Scrooge knew 
and named them every one. Why was he rejoiced beyond all 
bounds to see them ! "Why did his cold eye glisten, and his heart 
leap up as they went past ! Why was he filled with gladness when 
he heard them give each other Merry Christmas, as they parted 
at crossroads and byways for their several homes! What was 
merry Christmas to Scrooge ? Out upon merry Christmas ! What 
good had it ever done to him ? 

"The school is not quite deserted," said the Ghost. "A soli- 
tary child, neglected by his friends, is left there still." Scrooge 
said he knew it. And he sobbed. 

They left the highroad, by a well-remembered lane, and soon 
approached a mansion of dull red brick, with a little weathercock- 



184 



ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 




surmounted cupola on the roof, and a bell hanging in it. It was 
a large house, but one of broken fortunes ; for the spacious offices 
were little used, their walls were damp and mossy, their windows 
broken, and their gates decayed. Fowls clucked and strutted in 
the stables; and the coach-houses and sheds were overrun with 
grass. Nor was it more retentive of its ancient state, within ; for 
entering the dreary hall, and glancing through the open doors of 
many rooms, they found them poorly furnished, cold, and vast. 
There was an earthy savor in the air, a chilly bareness in the 
place, which associated itself somehow with too much getting up 
by candlelight, and not too much to eat. 

They went, the Ghost and Scrooge, across the hall, to a door at 
the back of the house. It opened before them and disclosed a 
long, bare, melancholy room, made barer still by lines of plain 
deal forms and desks. At one of these a lonely boy was reading 
near a feeble fire ; and Scrooge sat down upon a form and wept 
to see his poor forgotten self as he had used to be. 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 185 

Not a latent echo in the house, not a squeak and scuffle from 
the mice behind the paneling, not a drip from the half -thawed 
waterspout in the dull yard behind, not a sigh among the leaf- 
less boughs of one despondent poplar, not the idle swinging of 
an empty storehouse door, no, not a clicking in the fire, but fell 
upon the heart of Scrooge with softening influence, and gave a 
freer passage to his tears. 

The Spirit touched him on the arm and pointed to his younger 
self, intent upon his reading. Suddenly, a man, in foreign gar- 
ments, wonderfully real and distinct to look at, stood outside 
the window, with an ax stuck in his belt, and leading an ass 
laden with wood, by the bridle. 

"Why, it's Ali Baba!" Scrooge exclaimed in ecstasy. "It's 
dear old honest Ali Baba! Yes, yes, I know! One Christmas- 
time, when yonder solitary child was left here all alone, he did 
come, for the first time, just like that. Poor boy! And Valen- 
tine," said Scrooge, "and his wild brother, Orson; there they 
go! And what's his name, who was put down in his drawers, 
asleep, at the Gate of Damascus; don't you see him! And the 
Sultan's Groom turned upside down by the Genii; there he is 
upon his head ! Serves him right. I 'm glad of it. What business 
had he to be married to the Princess ! ' ' 

To hear Scrooge expending all the earnestness of his nature on 
such subjects, in a most extraordinary voice between laughing 
and crying, and to see his heightened and excited face would have 
been a surprise to his business friends in the city, indeed. 

* ' There 's the Parrot ! ' ' cried Scrooge. ' ' Green body and yel- 
low tail, with a thing like a lettuce growing out of the top of his 
head; there he is! Poor Robin Crusoe, he called him, when he 
came home again after sailing round the island. 'Poor Robin 
Crusoe, where have you been, Robin Crusoe ? ' The man thought 
he was dreaming, but he wasn't. It was the Parrot, you know. 
There goes Friday, running for his life to the little creek ! Halloa ! 
Whoop! Halloo!" 

Then, with a rapidity of transition very foreign to his usual 



186 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

character, he said, in pity for his former self, ' ' Poor boy ! ' ' and 
cried again. 

"I wish — " Scrooge muttered, putting his hand in his pocket, 
and looking about him, after drying his eyes with his cuff ; ' ' but 
it's too late now." 

"What is the matter?" asked the Spirit. 

1 1 Nothing, ' ' said Scrooge. i t Nothing. There was a boy singing 
a Christmas carol at my door last night. I should like to have 
given him something; that's all." 

The Ghost smiled thoughtfully, and waved its hand, saying as 
it did so, ' ' Let us see another Christmas ! ' ' 

Scrooge's former self grew larger at the words, and the room 
became a little darker and more dirty. The panels shrank, the 
windows cracked ; fragments of plaster fell out of the ceiling, and 
the naked laths were shown instead ; but how all this was brought 
about, Scrooge knew no more than you do. He only knew that 
it was quite correct ; that everything had happened so ; that here 
he was, alone again, when all the other boys had gone home for 
the jolly holidays. 

He was not reading now, but walking up and down despair- 
ingly. Scrooge looked at the .Ghost and, with a mournful shaking 
of his head, glanced anxiously toward the door. 

It opened ; and a little girl, much younger than the boy, came 
darting in, and putting her arms about his neck, and often kissing 
him, addressed him as her "Dear, dear brother." 

"I have come to bring you home, dear brother!" said the 
child, clapping her tiny hands, and bending down to laugh. ' ' To 
bring you home, home, home!" 

"Home, little Fan?" returned the boy "Yes!" said the child, 
brimful of glee. "Home, for good and all. Home, forever and 
ever. Father is so much kinder than he used to be that home's 
like heaven ! He spoke so gently to me one dear night when I 
was going to bed that I was not afraid to ask him once more if 
you might come home ; and he said yes, you should ; and sent me 
in a coach to bring you. And you 're to be a man ! ' ' said the child, 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 187 

opening her eyes, "and are never to come back here; but first, 
we 're to be together all the Christmas long, and have the merriest 
time in all the world. ' ' 

"You are quite a woman, little Fan!" exclaimed the boy. 

She clapped her hands and laughed, and tried to touch his 
head ; but being too little, laughed again, and stood on tiptoe to 
embrace him. Then she began to drag him, in her childish eager- 
ness, toward the door ; and he, nothing loath to go, accompanied 
her. 

A terrible voice in the hall cried, "Bring down Master 
Scrooge 's box, there ! ' ' and in the hall appeared the schoolmaster 
himself, who glared on Master Scrooge with a ferocious conde- 
scension, and threw him into a dreadful state of mind by shaking 
hands with him. He then conveyed him and his sister into the 
veriest old well of a shivering best-parlor that ever was seen, 
where the maps upon the wall and the celestial and terrestrial 
globes in the windows were waxy with cold. Here he produced a 
decanter of curiously light wine and a block of curiously heavy 
cake, and administered installments of those dainties to the 
young people ; at the same time sending out a meager servant to 
offer a glass of " something " to the postboy, who answered that 
he thanked the gentleman, but if it was the same tap as he had 
tasted before, he had rather not. 

Master Scrooge 's trunk being by this time tied on to the top 
of the chaise, the children bade the schoolmaster good-by right 
willingly; and getting into it, drove gayly down the garden- 
sweep, the quick wheels dashing the hoarfrost and snow from off 
the dark leaves of the evergreens like spray. 

"Always a delicate creature, whom a breath might have with- 
ered, ' ' said the Ghost. ' ' But she had a large heart ! ' ' 

1 ' So she had, ' ' cried Scrooge. * ' You 're right. I '11 not gainsay 
it, Spirit. God forbid !" 

"She died a woman," said the Ghost, "and had, as I think, 
children. ' ' 

"One child," Scrooge returned. 



188 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

"True," said the Ghost. "Your nephew !" 

Scrooge seemed uneasy in his mind; and answered briefly, 
"Yes." 

Although they had but that moment left the school behind 
them, they were now in the busy thoroughfares of a city, where 
shadowy passengers passed and repassed; where shadowy carts 
and coaches battled for the way, and all the strife and tumult of 
a real city were. It was made plain enough, by the dressing of 
the shops, that here, too, it was Christmas-time again ; but it was 
evening, and the streets were lighted up. 

The Ghost stopped at a certain warehouse door, and asked 
Scrooge if he knew it. "Know it!" said Scrooge. "Was I ap- 
prenticed here?" 

They went in. At sight of an old gentleman in a Welsh wig, 
sitting behind such a high desk that if he had been two inches 
taller, he must have knocked his head against the ceiling, Scrooge 
cried in great excitement : 

1 1 Why, it 's old Fezziwig ! Bless his heart ; it 's Fezziwig alive 
again ! " 

Old Fezziwig laid down his pen and looked up at the clock, 
which pointed to the hour of seven. He rubbed his hands, ad- 
justed his capacious waistcoat, laughed all over himself, from 
his shoes to his organ of benevolence, and called out in a com- 
fortable, oily, rich, fat, jovial voice : 

"Yo ho, there! Ebenezer! Dick!" 

Scrooge's former self, now grown a young man, came briskly 
in, accompanied by his fellow- 'prentice. 

1 1 Dick Wilkins, to be sure ! ' ' said Scrooge to the Ghost. ' ' Bless 
me, yes. There he is. He was very much attached to me, was Dick. 
Poor Dick ! Dear, dear ! ' ' 

' ' Yo ho, my boys ! ' ' said Fezziwig. ' ' No more work tonight. 
Christmas Eve, Dick. Christmas, Ebenezer! Let's have the 
shutters up, ' ' cried old Fezziwig, with a sharp clap of his hands, 
1 ' before a man can say Jack Robinson ! ' ' 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 189 

You wouldn 't believe how those two fellows went at it ! They 
charged into the street with the shutters — one, two, three — had 
'em up in their places — four, five, six — barred 'em and pinned 
'em — seven, eight, nine — and came back before you could have 
got to twelve, panting like race horses. 

1 ' Hilli-ho ! ' ' cried old Fezziwig, skipping down from the high 
desk with wonderful agility. " Clear away, my lads, and let's 
have lots of room here ! Hilli-ho, Dick ! Chirrup, Ebenezer ! ' ' 

Clear away! There was nothing they wouldn't have cleared 
away, or couldn't have cleared away, with old Fezziwig looking 
on. It was done in a minute. Every movable was packed off as if 
it were dismissed from public life forevermore; the floor was 
swept and watered; the lamps were trimmed; fuel was heaped 
upon the fire; and the warehouse was as snug, and warm, and 
dry, and bright a ballroom as you would desire to see upon a 
winter 's night. 

In came a fiddler with a music-book, and went up to the lofty 
desk, and made an orchestra of it, and tuned like fifty stomach- 
aches. In came Mrs. Fezziwig, one vast substantial smile. In 
came the three Miss Fezziwigs, beaming and lovable. In came 
the six young followers whose hearts they broke. In came all the 
young men and women employed in the business. In came the 
housemaid, with her cousin, the baker. In came the cook, with 
her brother's particular friend, the milkman. In came the boy 
from over the way, who was suspected of not having board 
enough from his master, trying to hide himself behind the girl 
from next door but one, who was proved to have had her ears 
pulled by her mistress. In they all came, one after another ; some 
shyly, some boldly, some gracefully, some awkwardly, some push- 
ing, some pulling; in they all came, anyhow and everyhow. 
Away they all went, twenty couples at once, hands half round 
and back again the other way ; down the middle and up again ; 
round and round in various stages of affectionate grouping ; old 
top couple always turning up in the wrong place ; new top couple 



190 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

starting off again, as soon as they got there ; all top couples at 
last, and not a bottom one to help them. When this result was 
brought about, old Fezziwig, clapping his hands to stop the 
dance, cried out, ' ' Well done ! ' ' and the fiddler plunged his hot 
face into a pot of porter especially provided for that purpose. 
But scorning rest upon his reappearance, he instantly began 
again, though there were no dancers yet, as if the other fiddler 
had been carried home, exhausted, on a shutter, and he were a 
brand-new man resolved to beat him out of sight, or perish. 

There were more dances, and there were forfeits, and more 
dances, and there was cake, and there was negus, and there was 
a great piece of Cold Koast, and there was a great piece of Cold 
Boiled, and there were mince pies, and plenty of beer. But the 
great effect of the evening came after the Roast and Boiled, when 
the fiddler (an artful dog, mind! the sort of man who knew his 
business better than you or I could have told it him ! ) struck up 
1 ' Sir Roger de Coverley. ' ' Then old Fezziwig stood out to dance 
with Mrs. Fezziwig. Top couple, too, with a good stiff piece of 
work cut out for them ; three or four and twenty pairs of part- 
ners ; people who were not to be trifled with ; people who would 
dance, and had no notion of walking. 

But if they had been twice as many, ah, four times, old Fezzi- 
wig would have been a match for them, and so would Mrs. Fezzi- 
wig. As to her, she was worthy to be his partner in every sense 
of the term. If that 's not high praise, tell me higher, and I Tl use 
it. A positive light appeared to issue from Fezziwig 's calves. 
They shone in every part of the dance like moons. You couldn't 
have predicted, at any given time, what would become of 'em 
next. And when old Fezziwig and Mrs. Fezziwig had gone all 
through the dance — advance and retire; hold hands with your 
partner ; bow and curtsy ; corkscrew ; thread-the-needle, and back 
again to your place — Fezziwig ' ' cut, ' ' so deftly that he appeared 
to wink with his legs, and came up on his feet again without a 
stagger. 

When the clock struck eleven, this domestic ball broke up. Mr. 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 



191 







and Mrs. Fezziwig took their stations, one on either side of the 
door, and shaking hands with every person individually as he or 
she went out, wished him or her a Merry Christmas. When every- 
body had retired but the two 'prentices, they did the same to 
them ; and thus the cheerful voices died away, and the lads were 
left to their beds, which were under a counter in the back shop. 

During the whole of this time Scrooge had acted like a man out 
of his wits. His heart and soul were in the scene, and with his 
former self. He corroborated everything, remembered every- 
thing, enjoyed everything, and underwent the strangest agita- 
tion. It was not until now, when the bright faces of his former 
self and Dick were turned from them, that he remembered the 
Ghost and became conscious that it was looking full upon him, 
while the light upon its head burned very clear. 

"A small matter,' ' said the Ghost, ''to make these silly folks 
so full of gratitude. ' ■ 

1 ' Small ! ' ' echoed Scrooge. 



192 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

The Spirit signed him to listen to the two apprentices, who 
were pouring out their hearts in praise of Fezziwig ; and when he 
had done so, said : 

"Why! Is it not? He has spent but a few pounds of your 
mortal money; three or four, perhaps. Is that so much that he 
deserves this praise?" 

1 ' It isn 't that, ' ' said Scrooge, heated by the remark, and speak- 
ing unconsciously like his former, not his latter, self. "It isn't 
that, Spirit. He has the power to render us happy or unhappy ; 
to make our service light or burdensome; a pleasure or a toil. 
Say that his power lies in words and looks ; in things so slight and 
insignificant that it is impossible to add and count 'em up ; what 
then? The happiness he gives is quite as great as if it cost a 
fortune. ' ' 

He felt the Spirit 's glance, and stopped. 

"What is the matter?" asked the Ghost. 

"Nothing particular," said Scrooge. 

"Something, I think?" the Ghost insisted. 

"No," said Scrooge, "no. I should like to be able to say a 
word or two to my clerk just now ! That 's all. ' ' 

His former self turned down the lamps as he gave utterance to 
the wish ; and Scrooge and the Ghost again stood side by side in 
the open air. 

' ' My time grows short, ' ' observed the Spirit. l ' Quick ! ' ' 

This was not addressed to Scrooge or to anyone whom he could 
see, but it produced an immediate effect. For again Scrooge saw 
himself. He was older now, a man in the prime of life. His face 
had not the harsh and rigid lines of later years ; but it had begun 
to wear the signs of care and avarice. There was an eager, greedy, 
restless motion in the eye, which showed the passion that had 
taken root, and where the shadow of the growing tree would 
fall. 

He was not alone, but sat by the side of a fair young girl in a 
mourning-dress, in whose eyes there were tears, which sparkled 
in the light that shone out of the Ghost of Christmas Past. 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 193 



i t 



It matters little," she said, softly. "To you, very little. An- 
other idol has displaced me; and if it can cheer and comfort 
you in time to come, as I would have tried to do, I have no just 
cause to grieve." 

"What idol has displaced you?" he rejoined. 

"A golden one." 

"This is the even-handed dealing of the world!" he said. 
' ' There is nothing on which it is so hard as poverty ; and there is 
nothing it professes to condemn with such severity as the pursuit 
of wealth!" 

"You fear the world too much," she answered, gently. "All 
your other hopes have merged into the hope of being beyond the 
chance of its sordid reproach. I have seen your nobler aspira- 
tions fall off, one by one, until the master-passion, Gain, en- 
grosses you. Have I not ? ' ' 

"What then?" he retorted. "Even if I have grown so much 
wiser, what then ? I am not changed toward you. ' ' 

She shook her head. 

"Ami?" 

1 ' Our contract is an old one. It was made when we were both 
poor and content to be so, until, in good season, we could improve 
our worldly fortune by our patient industry. You are changed. 
When it was made, you were another man. ' ' 

"I was a boy," he said impatiently. 

1 ' Your own feeling tells you that you were not what you are, ' ' 
she returned. "I am. That which promised happiness when we 
were one in heart is fraught with misery now that we are two. 
How often and how keenly I have thought of this I will not 
say. It is enough that I have thought of it and can release you." 

"Have I ever sought release?" 

"In words? No. Never." 

"In what, then?" 

" In a changed nature ; in an altered spirit ; in another atmos- 
phere of life ; another hope as its great end. In everything that 
made my love of any worth or value in your sight. If this had 



194 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

never been between us," said the girl, looking mildly, but with 
steadiness, upon him, "tell me, would you seek me out and try 
to win me now ? Ah, no ! ' ' 

He seemed to yield to the justice of this supposition, in spite of 
himself. But he said with a struggle, "You think not." 

"I would gladly think otherwise if I could," she answered, 
1 ' Heaven knows ! When I have learned a truth like this, I know 
how strong and irresistible it must be. But if you were free 
today, tomorrow, yesterday, can even I believe that you would 
choose a dowerless girl — you who, in your very confidence with 
her, weigh everything by Gain ; or, choosing her, if for a moment 
you were false enough to your one guiding principle to do so, do 
I not know that your repentance and regret would surely follow ? 
I do ; and I release you. With a full heart, for the love of him you 
once were." 

He was about to speak; but with her head turned from him, 
she resumed : 

"You may — the memory of what is past half makes me hope 
you will — have pain in this. A very, very brief time, and you 
will dismiss the recollection of it, gladly, as an unprofitable 
dream, from which it happened well that you awoke. May you be 
happy in the life you have chosen ! ' ' 

She left him, and they parted. 

"Spirit!" said Scrooge, "show me no more! Conduct me 
home. Why do you delight to torture me?" 

1 ' One shadow more ! ' ' exclaimed the Ghost. ' * No more ! ' ' cried 
Scrooge. "No more. I don't wish to see it. Show me no more ! " 

But the relentless Ghost pinioned him in both his arms, and 
forced him to observe what happened next. 

They were in another scene and place, a room, not very large 
or handsome, but full of comfort. Near to the winter fire sat a 
beautiful young girl, so like the last that Scrooge believed it was 
the same, until he saw her, now a comely matron, sitting opposite 
her daughter. The noise in this room was perfectly tumultuous, 
for there were more children there than Scrooge in his agitated 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 195 

state of mind could count ; and, unlike the celebrated herd in the 
poem, they were not forty children conducting themselves like 
one, but every child was conducting itself like forty. The con- 
sequences were uproarious beyond belief, but no one seemed to 
care ; on the contrary, the mother and daughter laughed heartily, 
and enjoyed it very much; and the latter, soon beginning to 
mingle in the sports, got pillaged by the young brigands most 
ruthlessly. What would I not have given to be one of them! 
Though I never could have been so rude, no, no ! I wouldn 't for 
the wealth of all the world have crushed that braided hair, and 
torn it down; and for the precious little shoe, I wouldn't have 
plucked it off, God bless my soul ! to save my life. As to measur- 
ing her waist in sport, as they did, bold young brood, I couldn 't 
have done it; I should have expected my arm to have grown 
round it for a punishment, and never come straight again. And 
yet I should have dearly liked, I own, to have touched her lips ; 
to have questioned her, that she might have opened them; to 
have looked upon the lashes of her downcast eyes, and never 
raised a blush ; to have let loose waves of hair, an inch of which 
would be a keepsake beyond price ; in short, I should have liked, 
I do confess, to have had the lightest license of a child, and yet 
been man enough to know its value. 

But now a knocking at the door was heard, and such a rush 
immediately ensued that she, with laughing face and plundered 
dress, was borne toward it, the center of a flushed and boisterous 
group just in time to greet the father, who came home attended 
by a man laden with Christmas toys and presents. Then the 
shouting and the struggling, and the onslaught that was made on 
the defenseless porter ! The scaling him with chairs for ladders 
to dive into his pockets, despoil him of brown-paper parcels, hold 
on tight by his cravat, hug him round the neck, pommel his back, 
and kick his legs in irrepressible affection ! The shouts of wonder 
and delight with which the development of every package was 
received! The terrible announcement that the baby had been 
taken in the act of putting a doll's frying-pan into his mouth, 



196 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

and was more than suspected of having swallowed a fictitious 
turkey, glued on a wooden platter! The immense relief of find- 
ing this a false alarm ! The joy, and gratitude, and ecstasy ! They 
are all indescribable alike. It is enough that by degrees the chil- 
dren got out of the parlor and, by one stair at a time, up to the 
top of the house, where they went to bed, and so subsided. 

And now Scrooge looked on more attentively than ever, when 
the master of the house, having his daughter leaning fondly on 
him, sat down with her and her mother at his own fireside ; and 
when he thought that such another creature, quite as graceful 
and as full of promise, might have called him father, and been 
a springtime in the haggard winter of his life, his sight grew 
very dim indeed. 

1 'Belle," said the husband, turning to his wife with a smile, 
"I saw an old friend of yours this afternoon." 

"Who was it?" 

"Guess!" 

"How can I? Tut, don't I know?" she added in the same 
breath, laughing as he laughed. "Mr. Scrooge." 

' ' Mr. Scrooge it was. I passed his office window • and as it was 
not shut up, and he had a candle inside, I could scarcely help 
seeing him. His partner lies upon the point of death, I hear ; and 
there he sat alone. Quite alone in the world, I do believe. ' ' 

"Spirit!" said Scrooge in a broken voice, "remove me from 
this place." 

' ' I told you these were shadows of the things that have been, ' ' 
said the Ghost. ' * That they are what they are, do not blame me!" 

"Remove me!" Scrooge exclaimed; "I cannot bear it!" 

He turned upon the Ghost, and seeing that it looked upon him 
with a face, in which in some strange way there were fragments 
of all the faces it had shown him, wrestled with it. 

' ' Leave me ! Take me back. Haunt me no longer ! ' ' 

In the struggle, if that can be called a struggle in which the 
Ghost with no visible resistance on its own part was undisturbed 
by any effort of its adversary, Scrooge observed that its light 
was burning high and bright ; and dimly connecting that with its 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 197 

influence over him, he seized the extinguisher-cap, and by a sud- 
den action pressed it down upon his head. 

The Spirit dropped beneath it, so that the extinguisher cov- 
ered its whole form; but though Scrooge pressed it down with 
all his force, he could not hide the light which streamed from 
under it, in an unbroken flood upon the ground. 

He was conscious of being exhausted and overcome by an irre- 
sistible drowsiness, and, further, of being in his own bedroom. 
He gave the cap a parting squeeze, in which his hand relaxed, 
and had barely time to reel to bed, before he sank into a heavy 
slumber. 



STAVE THREE 

THE SECOND OF THE THREE SPIRITS 

Awakening in the middle of a prodigiously tough snore, and 
sitting up in bed to get his thoughts together, Scrooge had no 
occasion to be told that the bell was again upon the stroke of One. 
He felt that he was restored to consciousness in the right nick of 
time, for the especial purpose of holding a conference with the 
second messenger dispatched to him through Jacob Marley's in- 
tervention. But, finding that he turned uncomfortably cold 
when he began to wonder which of his curtains this new specter 
would draw back, he put them every one aside with his own 
hands, and lying down again, established a sharp lookout all 
round the bed. For he wished to challenge the Spirit on the mo- 
ment of its appearance, and did not wish to be taken by surprise 
and made nervous. 

Gentlemen of the free-and-easy sort, who plume themselves 
on being acquainted with a move or two, and being usually equal 
to the time-of-day, express the wide range of their capacity for 
adventure by observing that they are good for anything from 
pitch and toss to manslaughter; between which opposite ex- 
tremes, no doubt, there lies a tolerably wide and comprehensive 
range of subjects. Without venturing for Scrooge quite as 



198 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

hardily as this, I don't mind calling on you to believe that he 
was ready for a good broad field of strange appearances, and that 
nothing between a baby and rhinoceros would have astonished 
him very much. 

Now, being prepared for almost anything, he was not by any 
means prepared for nothing; and, consequently, when the Bell 
struck One, and no shape appeared, he was taken with a violent 
fit of trembling. Five minutes, ten minutes, a quarter of an hour 
went by, yet nothing came. All this time he lay upon his bed, the 
very core and center of a blaze of ruddy light, which streamed 
upon it when the clock proclaimed the hour; and which, being 
only light, was more alarming than a dozen ghosts, as he was 
powerless to make out what it meant, or would be at; and was 
sometimes apprehensive that he might be at that very moment 
an interesting case of spontaneous combustion, without having 
the consolation of knowing it. At last, however, he began to 
think — as you or I would have thought at first ; for it is always 
the person not in the predicament who knows what ought to have 
been done in it, and would unquestionably have done it, too — -at 
last, I say, he began to think that the source and secret of this 
ghostly light might be in the adjoining room, from whence, on 
further tracing it, it seemed to shine. This idea taking full pos- 
session of his mind, he got up softly and shuffled in his slippers 
to the door. 

The moment Scrooge's hand was on the lock a strange voice 
called him by name and bade him enter. He obeyed. 

It was his own room. There was no doubt about that. But it 
had undergone a surprising transformation. The walls and ceil- 
ing were so hung with living green that it looked a perfect grove, 
from every part of which bright gleaming berries glistened. The 
crisp leaves of holly, mistletoe, and ivy reflected back the light, 
as if so many little mirrors had been scattered there ; and such a 
mighty blaze went roaring up the chimney as that dull hearth 
had never known in Scrooge's time, or Marley's, or for many 
and many a winter season gone. Heaped up on the floor, to form 
a kind of throne, were turkeys, geese, game, poultry, brawn, 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 199 

great joints of meat, sucking-pigs, long wreaths of sausages, 
mince pies, plum puddings, barrels of oysters, red-hot chestnuts, 
cherry-cheeked apples, juicy oranges, luscious pears, immense 
twelfth-cakes, and seething bowls of punch, that made the cham- 
ber dim with their delicious steam. In easy state upon this 
couch there sat a jolly Giant, glorious to see, who bore a glowing 
torch, in shape not unlike Plenty's horn, and held it up, high 
up, to shed its light on Scrooge, as he came peeping round the 
door. 

"Come in!" exclaimed the Ghost. "Come in! and know me 
better, man!" 

Scrooge entered timidly, and hung his head before this Spirit. 
He was not the dogged Scrooge he had been; and though the 
Spirit's eyes were clear and kind, he did not like to meet them. 

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Present," said the Spirit. 
' ' Look upon me ! " 

Scrooge reverently did so. It was clothed in one simple deep 
green robe, or mantle, bordered with white fur. This garment 
hung so loosely on the figure that its capacious breast was bare. 
Its feet, observable beneath the ample folds of the garment, were 
also bare ; and on its head it wore no other covering than a holly 
wreath set here and there with shining icicles. Its dark brown 
curls were long and free ; free as its genial face, its sparkling eye, 
its open hand, its cheery voice, its unconstrained demeanor, and 
its joyful air. Girded round its middle was an antique scabbard ; 
but no sword was in it, and the ancient sheath was eaten with 
rust. 

1 * You have never seen the like of me before ! ' ' exclaimed the 
Spirit. 

"Never," Scrooge made answer to it. 

"Have you never walked forth with the younger members of 
my family; meaning (for I am very young) my elder brothers 
born in these later years f ' ' pursued the Phantom. 

' ' I don 't think I have, ' ' said Scrooge. ' ' I am afraid I have not. 
Have you had many brothers, Spirit?" 

"More than eighteen hundred," said the Ghost. 



200 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

1 ' A tremendous family to provide for ! ' ' muttered Scrooge. 

The Ghost of Christmas Present rose. 

" Spirit," said Scrooge, submissively, "conduct me where you 
will. I went forth last night on compulsion, and I learned a les- 
son which is working now. Tonight, if you have aught to teach 
me, let me profit by it. ' ' 

' ' Touch my robe ! ' ' 

Scrooge did as he was told, and held it fast. 

Holly, mistletoe, red berries, ivy, turkeys, geese, game, poultry, 
brawn, meat, pigs, sausages, oysters, pies, puddings, fruit, and 
punch, all vanished instantly. So did the room, the fire, the ruddy 
glow, the hour of night, and they stood in the city streets on 
Christmas morning, where (for the weather was severe) the peo- 
ple made a rough, but brisk and not unpleasant, kind of music, in 
scraping the snow from the pavement in front of their dwellings 
and from the tops of their houses ; whence it was mad delight to 
the boys to see it come plumping down into the road below, and 
splitting into artificial little snowstorms. 

The house fronts looked black enough, and the windows 
blacker, contrasting with the smooth white sheet of snow upon 
the roofs and with the dirtier snow upon the ground, which last 
deposit had been plowed up in deep furrows by the heavy wheels 
of carts and wagons — furrows that crossed and recrossed each 
other hundreds of times where the great streets branched off, and 
made intricate channels, hard to trace, in the thick yellow mud 
and icy water. The sky was gloomy, and the shortest streets were 
choked up with a dingy mist, half thawed, half frozen, whose 
heavier particles descended in a shower of sooty atoms, as if all 
the chimneys in Great Britain had, by one consent, caught fire, 
and were blazing away to their dear hearts' content. There was 
nothing very cheerful in the climate or the town, and yet was 
there an air of cheerfulness abroad that the clearest summer air 
and brightest summer sun might have endeavored to diffuse in 
vain. 

For the people who were shoveling away on the housetops were 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 201 

jovial and full of glee,, calling out to one another and now and 
then exchanging a facetious snowball — better-natured missile far 
than many a wordy jest — laughing heartily if it went right and 
not less heartily if it went wrong. The poulterers' shops were 
still half open, and the fruiterers' were radiant in their glory. 
There were great, round, pot-bellied baskets of chestnuts, shaped 
like the waistcoats of jolly old gentlemen, lolling at the doors, 
and tumbling out into the street. There were ruddy, brown- 
faced, broad-girthed Spanish onions, shining in the fatness of 
their growth like Spanish friars, and winking from their shelves 
in wanton slyness at the girls as they went by and glanced de- 
murely at the hung-up mistletoe. There were pears and apples, 
clustered high in blooming pyramids; there were bunches of 
grapes, made, in the shopkeepers' benevolence, to dangle from 
conspicuous hooks, that people's mouths might water gratis as 
they passed; there were piles of filberts, mossy and brown, re- 
calling, in their fragrance, ancient walks among the woods, and 
pleasant shufflings ankle deep through withered leaves; there 
were Norfolk biffins, squat, and swarthy, setting off the yellow of 
the oranges and lemons, and, in the great compactness of their 
juicy persons, urgently entreating and beseeching to be carried 
home in paper bags and eaten after dinner. The very gold and 
silver fish, set forth among these choice fruits in a bowl, though 
members of a dull and stagnant-blooded race, appeared to know 
that there was something going on ; and, to a fish, went gasping 
round and round their little world in slow and passionless excite- 
ment. 

The Grocers'! oh, the Grocers'! nearly closed, with perhaps 
two shutters down, or one ; but through those gaps such glimpses ! 
It was not alone that the scales descending on the counter made 
a merry sound, or that the twine and roller parted company so 
briskly, or that the canisters were rattled up and down like jug- 
gling tricks, or even that the blended scents of tea and coffee 
were so grateful to the nose, or even that the raisins were so 
plentiful and rare, the almonds so extremely white, the sticks 



202 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

of cinnamon so long and straight, the other spices so delicious, 
the candied fruits so caked and spotted with molten sugar as 
to make the coldest lookers-on feel faint and subsequently bilious. 
Nor was it that the figs were moist and pulpy, or that the French 
plums blushed in modest tartness from their highly-decorated 
boxes, or that everything was good to eat and in its Christmas 
dress ; but the customers were all so hurried and so eager in the 
hopeful promise of the day that they tumbled up against each 
other at the door, clashing their wicker baskets wildly, and left 
their purchases upon the counter, and came running back to 
fetch them, and committed hundreds of the like mistakes in the 
best humor possible; while the grocer and his people were so 
frank and fresh that the polished hearts with which they fas- 
tened their aprons behind might have been their own, worn out- 
side for general inspection and for Christmas daws to peck at if 
they chose. 

But soon the steeples called good people all to church and 
chapel, and away they came, flocking through the streets in their 
best clothes, and with their gayest faces. And at the same time 
there emerged from scores of bystreets, lanes, and nameless turn- 
ings, innumerable people, carrying their dinners to the bakers' 
shops. The sight of these poor revelers appeared to interest 
the Spirit very much, for he stood with Scrooge beside him in a 
baker's doorway, and taking off the covers as their bearers 
passed, sprinkled incense on their dinners from his torch. 

And it was a very uncommon kind of torch, for once or twice 
when there were angry words between some dinner-carriers who 
had jostled with each other, he shed a few drops of water on them 
from it, and their good humor was restored directly. For, they 
said, it was a shame to quarrel upon Christmas Day. And so it 
was ! God love it, so it was ! 

In time the bells ceased, and the bakers' were shut up; and 
yet there was a genial shadowing forth of all these dinners and 
the progress of their cooking, in the thawed blotch of wet above 
each baker's oven, where the pavement smoked as if its stones 
were cooking, too. 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 203 

"Is there a peculiar flavor in what you sprinkle from your 
torch?" asked Scrooge. 

"There is. My own." 

1 ' Would it apply to any kind of dinner on this day ? ' ' asked 
Scrooge. 

"To any kindly given. To a poor one most." 

"Why to a poor one most?" asked Scrooge. 

"Because it needs it most." 

1 ' Spirit, ' ' said Scrooge, after a moment 's thought, ' ' I wonder 
you, of all the beings in the many worlds about us, should desire 
to cramp these people's opportunities of innocent enjoyment." 

"I!" cried the Spirit. 

"You would deprive them of their means of dining every 
seventh day, often the only day on which they can be said to dine 
at all," said Scrooge. "Wouldn't you?" 

"I!" cried the Spirit. 

"You seek to close these places on the seventh day?" said 
Scrooge. ' ' And it comes to the same thing. ' ' 

"I seek!" exclaimed the Spirit. 

1 < Forgive me if I am wrong. It has been done in your name, or 
at least in that of your family, ' ' said Scrooge. 

"There are some upon this earth of yours," returned the 
Spirit, "who lay claim to know us, and who do their deeds of 
passion, pride, ill will, hatred, envy, bigotry, and selfishness in 
our name, who are as strange to us and all our kith and kin, as if 
they had never lived. Remember that, and charge their doings 
on themselves, not us. ' ' 

Scrooge promised that he would ; and they went on, invisible, 
as they had been before, into the suburbs of the town. It was a 
remarkable quality of the Ghost (which Scrooge had observed 
at the baker's), that notwithstanding his gigantic size, he could 
accommodate himself to any place with ease; and that he stood 
beneath a low roof quite as gracefully and like a supernatural 
creature, as it was possible he could have done in any lofty hall. 

And perhaps it was the pleasure the good Spirit had in show- 
ing off this power of his, or else it was his own kind, generous, 



204 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

hearty nature, and his sympathy with all poor men, that led 
him straight to Scrooge's clerk's; for there he went, and took 
Scrooge with him, holding to his robe; and on the threshold of 
the door the Spirit smiled, and stopped to bless Bob Cratchit's 
dwelling with the sprinklings of his torch. Think of that ! Bob 
had but fifteen "bob" a week himself; he pocketed on Saturdays 
but fifteen copies of his Christian name ; and yet the Ghost of 
Christmas Present blessed his four-roomed house ! 

Then up rose Mrs. Cratchit, Cratchit's wife, dressed out but 
poorly in a twice-turned gown, but brave in ribbons, which are 
cheap and make a goodly show for sixpence; and she laid the 
cloth, assisted by Belinda Cratchit, second of her daughters, also 
brave in ribbons; while Master Peter Cratchit plunged a fork 
into the saucepan of potatoes, and getting the corners of his mon- 
strous shirt collar (Bob's private property, conferred upon his 
son and heir in honor of the day) into his mouth, rejoiced to find 
himself so gallantly attired, and yearned to show his linen in the 
fashionable parks. And now two smaller Cratchits, boy and 
girl, came tearing in, screaming that outside the baker's they 
had smelt the goose, and known it for their own ; and, basking in 
luxurious thoughts of sage-and-onion, these young Cratchits 
danced about the table, and exalted Master Peter Cratchit to the 
skies, while he (not proud, although his collar nearly choked 
him) blew the fire until the slow potatoes, bubbling up, knocked 
loudly at the saucepan lid to be let out and peeled. 

"What has ever got your precious father then?" said Mrs. 
Cratchit. "And your brother, Tiny Tim! And Martha warn't 
as late last Christmas Day by half an hour ! ' ' 

' ■ Here 's Martha, mother ! ' ' said a girl, appearing as she spoke. 

"Here's Martha, mother!" cried the two young Cratchits. 
' ' Hurrah ! There 's such a goose, Martha ! ' ' 

"Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you are!" 
said Mrs. Cratchit, kissing her a dozen times, and taking off her 
shawl and bonnet for her with officious zeal. 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 205 

1 'We'd a deal of work to finish up last night," replied the 
girl, "and had to clear away this morning, mother!" 

"Well! Never mind so long as you are come," said Mrs. 
Cratchit. "Sit ye down before the fire, my dear, and have a 
warm, Lord bless ye!" 

"No, no! There's father coming," cried the two young 
Cratchits, who were everywhere at once. l i Hide, Martha, hide ! ' ' 

So Martha hid herself, and in came little Bob, the father, with 
at least three feet of comforter exclusive of the fringe, hanging 
down before him; and his threadbare clothes darned up and 
brushed, to look seasonable; and Tiny Tim upon his shoulder. 
Alas for Tiny Tim, he bore a little crutch, and had his limbs sup- 
ported by an iron frame ! 

"Why, where's our Martha?" cried Bob Cratchit, looking 
round. 

"Not coming," said Mrs. Cratchit. 

"Not coming!" said Bob, with a sudden declension in his high 
spirits; for he had been Tim's blood horse all the way from 
church, and had come home rampant. ' ' Not coming upon Christ- 
mas Day ! ' ' 

Martha didn't like to see him disappointed, if it were only in 
joke; so she came out prematurely from behind the closet door, 
and ran into his arms, while the two young Cratchits hustled 
Tiny Tim, and bore him off into the wash-house, that he might 
hear the pudding singing in the copper. 

"And how did little Tim behave?" asked Mrs. Cratchit, when 
she had rallied Bob on his credulity, and Bob had hugged his 
daughter to his heart's content. 

"As good as gold," said Bob, "and better. Somehow he gets 
thoughtful, sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest 
things you ever heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped 
the people saw him in the church, because he was a cripple ; and 
it might be pleasant to them to remember, upon Christmas Day, 
who made lame beggars walk and blind men see. ' ' 




206 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 207 

Bob's voice was tremulous when he told them this, and 
trembled more when he said that Tiny Tim was growing strong 
and hearty. 

His active little crutch was heard upon the floor, and back 
came Tiny Tim before another word was spoken, escorted by his 
brother and sister to his stool before the fire; and while Bob, 
turning up his cuffs — as if, poor fellow, they were capable of 
being made more shabby — compounded some hot mixture in a 
jug with gin and lemons, and stirred it round and round and put 
it on the hob to simmer, Master Peter and the two ubiquitous 
young Cratchits went to fetch the goose, with which they soon 
returned in high procession. 

Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought a goose the 
rarest of all birds, a feathered phenomenon, to which a black 
swan was a matter of course — and in truth it was something 
very like it in that house. Mrs. Cratchit made the gravy (ready 
beforehand in a little saucepan) hissing hot; Master Peter 
mashed the potatoes with incredible vigor; Miss Belinda 
sweetened up the apple sauce ; Martha dusted the hot plates ; Bob 
took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at the table ; the two 
young Cratchits set chairs for everybody, not forgetting them- 
selves, and mounting guard upon their posts, crammed spoons 
into their mouths, lest they should shriek for goose before their 
turn came to be helped. At last the dishes were set on, and grace 
was said. It was succeeded by a breathless pause, as Mrs. 
Cratchit, looking slowly all along the carving-knife, prepared to 
plunge it in the breast; but when she did, and when the long 
expected gush of stuffing issued forth, one murmur of delight 
arose all around the board, and even Tiny Tim, excited by the 
two young Cratchits, beat on the table with the handle of his 
knife, and feebly cried, ' l Hurrah ! ' ' 

There never was such a goose. Bob said he didn't believe there 
ever was such a goose cooked. Its tenderness and flavor, size and 
cheapness, were the themes of universal admiration. Eked out 
by the apple sauce and mashed potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner 



208 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

for the whole family; indeed, as Mrs. Cratchit said with great 
delight (surveying one small atom of a bone upon the dish), they 
hadn't ate it all at last! Yet every one had had enough, and the 
youngest Cratchits in particular were steeped in sage and onion 
to the eyebrows! But now, the plates being changed by Miss 
Belinda, Mrs. Cratchit left the room alone — too nervous to bear 
witness — to take the pudding up and bring it in. 

Suppose it should not be done enough ! Suppose it should 
break in turning out! Suppose somebody should have got over 
the wall of the back yard, and stolen it, while they were merry 
with the goose — a supposition at which the two young Cratchits 
became livid! All sorts of horrors were supposed. 

Hallo ! A great deal of steam ! The pudding was out of the 
copper. A smell like a washing-day ! That was the cloth. A 
smell like an eating-house and a pastry cook's next door to each 
other, with a laundress's next door to that! That was the pud- 
ding! In half a minute Mrs. Cratchit entered — flushed, but 
smiling proudly — with the pudding, like a speckled cannonball, 
so hard and firm, blazing in half of half-a-quartern of ignited 
brandy, and bedight with Christmas holly stuck into the top. 

Oh, a wonderful pudding ! Bob Cratchit said, and calmly, too, 
that he regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs. 
Cratchit since their marriage. Mrs. Cratchit said that, now the 
weight was off her mind, she would confess she had her doubts 
about the quantity of flour. Everybody had something to say 
about it, but nobody said or thought it was at all a small pudding 
for a large family. It would have been flat heresy to do so. Any 
Cratchit would have blushed to hint at such a thing. 

At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the 
hearth swept, and the fire made up. The compound in the jug 
being tasted, and considered perfect, apples and oranges were 
put upon the table, and a shovelful of chestnuts on the fire. Then 
all the Cratchit family drew around the hearth, in what Bob 
Cratchit called a circle, meaning half a one; and at Bob Crat- 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 209 

chit 's elbow stood the family display of glass — two tumblers and 
a custard-cup without a handle. 

These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as 
golden goblets would have done; and Bob served it out with 
beaming looks, while the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and 
cracked noisily. Then Bob proposed : 

"A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us!" 

Which all the family re-echoed. 

' ' God bless us every one ! ' ' said Tiny Tim, the last of all. 

He sat very close to his father's side upon his little stool. Bob 
held his withered little hand in his, as if he loved the child, and 
wished to keep him by his side, and dreaded that he might be 
taken from him. 

"Spirit," said Scrooge, with an interest he had never felt 
before, "tell me if Tiny Tim will live." 

" I see a vacant seat, ' ' replied the Ghost, ' t in the poor chimney 
corner, and a crutch without an owner, carefully preserved. If 
these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, the child will 
die." 

' ' No, no, ' ' said Scrooge. ' ' Oh, no, kind Spirit ! say he will be 
spared." 

' l If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, none other 
of my race," returned the Ghost, "will find him here. What 
then? If he be like to die, he had better do it, and decrease the 
surplus population." 

Scrooge hung his head to hear his own words quoted by the 
Spirit, and was overcome with penitence and grief. 

i ' Man, ' ' said the Ghost, ' ' if man you be in heart, not adamant, 
forbear that wicked cant until you have discovered what the 
surplus is, and where it is. Will you decide what men shall live, 
what men shall die? It may be that in the sight of Heaven you 
are more worthless and less fit to live than millions like this poor 
man 's child. Oh, God ! to hear the insect on the leaf pronouncing 
on the too much life among his hungry brothers in the dust ! ' ' 



210 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Scrooge bent before the Ghost's rebuke and, trembling, cast 
his eyes upon the ground. But he raised them speedily, on hear- 
ing his own name. 

"Mr. Scrooge!" said Bob; "I'll give you Mr. Scrooge, the 
Founder of the Feast!" 

"The Founder of the Feast indeed!" cried Mrs. Cratchit, 
reddening. "I wish I had him here. I'd give him a piece of my 
mind to feast upon, and I hope he 'd have a good appetite for it. ' ' 

"My dear," said Bob, "the children! Christmas Day!" 

"It should be Christmas Day, I am sure," said she, "on which 
one drinks the health of such an odious, stingy, hard, unfeeling 
man as Mr. Scrooge. You know he is, Robert ! Nobody knows it 
better than you do, poor fellow!" 

"My dear," was Bob's mild answer. "Christmas Day." 

" I '11 drink his health for your sake and the Day 's, ' ' said Mrs. 
Cratchit, "not for his. Long life to him! A Merry Christmas 
and a Happy New Year ! He'll be very merry and happy, I have 
no doubt!" 

The children drank the toast after her. It was the first of 
their proceedings which had no heartiness in it. Tiny Tim drank 
it last of all, but he didn't care twopence for it. Scrooge was 
the Ogre of the family. The mention of his name cast a dark 
shadow on the party, which was not dispelled for full five 
minutes. 

After it had passed away, they were ten times merrier than 
before, from the mere relief of Scrooge the Baleful being done 
with. Bob Cratchit told them how he had a situation in his eye 
for Master Peter, which would bring in, if obtained, full five- 
and-sixpence weekly. The two young Cratchits laughed tre- 
mendously at the idea of Peter 's being a man of business ; and 
Peter himself looked thoughtfully at the fire from between his 
collars, as if he were deliberating what particular investments 
he should favor when he came into the receipt of that bewilder- 
ing income. Martha, who was a poor apprentice at a milliner's, 
then told them what kind of work she had to do, and how many 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 211 

hours she worked at a stretch, and how she meant to lie abed 
tomorrow morning for a good long rest ; tomorrow being a holi- 
day she passed at home. Also how she had seen a countess and a 
lord some days before, and how the lord "was much about as 
tall as Peter " ; at which Peter pulled up his collars so high that 
you couldn't have seen his head if you had been there. All this 
time the chestnuts and the jug went round and round; and by 
and by they had a song about a lost child traveling in the snow 
from Tiny Tim, who had a plaintive little voice, and sang it very 
well indeed. 

There was nothing of high mark in this. They were not a 
handsome family; they were not well dressed; their shoes were 
far from being waterproof ; their clothes were scanty ; and Peter 
might have known, and very likely did, the inside of a pawn- 
broker's. But, they were happy, grateful, pleased with one 
another, and contented with the time ; and when they faded, and 
looked happier yet in the bright sprinklings of the Spirit 's torch 
at parting, Scrooge had his eye upon them, and especially on 
Tiny Tim, until the last. By this time it was getting dark, and 
snowing pretty heavily; and as Scrooge and the Spirit went 
along the streets, the brightness of the roaring fires in kitchens, 
parlors, and all sorts of rooms, was wonderful. Here, the flicker- 
ing of the blaze showed preparations for a cozy dinner, with hot 
plates baking through and through before the fire, and deep red 
curtains, ready to be drawn to shut out cold and darkness. There, 
all the children of the house were running out into the snow to 
meet their married sisters, brothers, cousins, uncles, aunts, and 
be the first to greet them. Here^ again, were shadows on the 
window-blind of guests assembling ; and there a group of hand- 
some girls, all hooded and fur-booted, and all chattering at once, 
tripped lightly off to some near neighbor's house; where woe 
upon the single man who saw them enter — artful witches ! well 
they knew it — in a glow! 

But if you had judged from the numbers of people on their way 
to friendly gatherings, you might have thought that no one was 



212 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

at home to give them welcome when they got there, instead of 
every house expecting company, and piling up its fires half- 
chimney high. Blessings on it, how the Ghost exulted! How it 
bared its breadth of breast, and opened its capacious palm, and 
floated on outpouring, with a generous hand, its bright and 
harmless mirth, on everything within its reach ! The very lamp- 
lighter, who ran on before dotting the dusky street with specks 
of light, and who was dressed to spend the evening somewhere, 
laughed out loudly as the Spirit passed ; though little kenned the 
lamplighter that he had any company but Christmas ! 

And now, without a word of warning from the Ghost, they 
stood upon a bleak and desert moor, where monstrous masses of 
rude stone were cast about, as though it were the burial place of 
giants; and water spread itself wheresoever it listed, or would 
have done so but for the frost that held it prisoner ; and nothing 
grew but moss and furze, and coarse, rank grass. Down in the 
west the setting sun had left a streak of fiery red, which glared 
upon the desolation for an instant, like a sullen eye, and frown- 
ing lower, lower, lower yet, was lost in the thick gloom of darkest 
night. 

"What place is this?" asked Scrooge. 

"A place where miners live, who labor in the bowels of the 
earth," returned the Spirit. "But they know me. See!" 

A light shone from the window of a hut, and swiftly they 
advanced toward it. Passing through the wall of mud and stone, 
they found a cheerful company assembled round a glowing fire. 
An old, old man and woman, with their children and their 
children's children, and another generation beyond that, all 
decked out gayly in their holiday attire. The old man in a voice 
that seldom rose above the howling of the wind upon the barren 
waste was singing them a Christmas song; it had been a very 
old song when he was a boy; and from time to time they all 
joined in the chorus. So surely as they raised their voices, the 
old man got quite blithe and loud ; and so surely as they stopped, 
his vigor sang again. 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 213 

The Spirit did not tarry here, but bade Scrooge hold his robe, 
and passing on above the moor, sped whither? Not to sea? To sea. 
To Scrooge 's horror, looking back, he saw the last of the land, a 
frightful range of rocks, behind them; and his ears were 
deafened by the thundering of water, as it rolled, and roared, 
and raged among the dreadful caverns it had worn, and fiercely 
tried to undermine the earth. 

Built upon a dismal reef of sunken rocks, some league or so 
from shore, on which the waters chafed and dashed, the wild 
year through, there stood a solitary lighthouse. Great heaps of 
seaweed clung to its base, and storm-birds — born of the wind 
one might suppose as seaweed of the water — rose and fell about 
it, like the waves they skimmed. 

But even here, two men who watched the light had made a 
fire, that through the loophole in the thick stone wall shed out a 
ray of brightness on the awful sea. Joining their horny hands 
over the rough table at which they sat, they wished each other 
Merry Christmas in their can of grog; and one of them — the 
elder, too, with his face all damaged and scarred with hard 
weather, as the figurehead of an old ship might be — struck up 
a sturdy song that was like a gale in itself. 

Again the Ghost sped on, above the black and heaving sea — 
on, on — until being far away, as he told Scrooge, from any shore, 
they lighted on a ship. They stood beside the helmsman at the 
wheel, the lookout in the bow, the officers who had the watch — 
dark, ghostly figures in their several stations — but every man 
among them hummed a Christmas tune, or had a Christmas 
thought, or spoke below his breath to his companion of some 
bygone Christmas Day, with homeward hopes belonging to it. 
And every man on board, waking or sleeping, good or bad, had 
had a kinder word for another on that day than on any day in 
the year; and had shared to some extent in its festivities; and 
had remembered those he cared for at a distance, and had known 
that they delighted to remember him. 

It was a great surprise to Scrooge, while listening to the moan- 



214 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

ing of the wind, and thinking what a solemn thing it was to 
move on through the lonely darkness over an unknown abyss, 
whose depths were secrets as profound as death — it was a great 
surprise to Scrooge, while thus engaged, to hear a hearty laugh. 
It was a much greater surprise to Scrooge to recognize it as his 
own nephew 's and to find himself in a bright, dry, gleaming room, 
with the Spirit standing smiling by his side, and looking at the 
same nephew with approving affability. "Ha, ha!" laughed 
Scrooge's nephew. "Ha, ha, ha!" 

If you should happen, by any unlikely chance, to know a man 
more blest in a laugh than Scrooge's nephew, all I can say, is, I 
should like to know him, too. Introduce him to me, and I'll 
cultivate his acquaintance. 

It is a fair, even-handed, noble adjustment of things, that 
while there is infection in disease and sorrow, there is nothing in 
the world so irresistibly contagious as laughter and good humor. 
When Scrooge's nephew laughed in this way — holding his sides, 
rolling his head, and twisting his face into the most extravagant 
contortions — Scrooge's niece, by marriage, laughed as heartily 
as he. And their assembled friends, being not a bit behindhand, 
roared out lustily. 

"Ha/ha! Ha, ha, ha, ha ! " 

"He said that Christmas was a humbug, as I live!" cried 
Scrooge 's nephew. ' ' He believed it, too ! ' ' 

"More shame for him, Fred!" said Scrooge's niece, indig- 
nantly. Bless those women; they never do anything by halves. 
They are always in earnest. 

She was very pretty, exceedingly pretty. With a dimpled, 
surprised-looking, capital face ; a ripe little mouth, that seemed 
made to be kissed — as no doubt it was; all kinds of good little 
dots about her chin, that melted into one another when she 
laughed ; and the sunniest pair of eyes you ever saw in any little 
creature's head. Altogether she was what you would call pro- 
voking, you know; but satisfactory, too. Oh, perfectly satis- 
factory ! 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 215 

"He's a comical old fellow/' said Scrooge's nephew, "that's 
the truth; and not so pleasant as he might be. However, his 
offenses carry their own punishment, and I have nothing to say 
against him.'' 

"I'm sure he is very rich, Fred," hinted Scrooge's niece. "At 
least you always tell me so." 

"What of that, my dear!" said Scrooge's nephew. "His 
wealth is of no use to him. He doesn't do any good with it. He 
doesn't make himself comfortable with it. He hasn't the satis- 
faction of thinking — ha, ha, ha ! — that he is ever going to benefit 
us with it. ' ' 

"I have no patience with him," observed Scrooge's niece. 
Scrooge's niece's sisters, and all the other ladies, expressed the 
same opinion. 

* ' Oh, I have ! ' ' said Scrooge 's nephew. ' ' I am sorry for him ; 
I couldn't be angry with him if I tried. Who suffers by his ill 
whims? Himself, always. Here he takes it into his head to dis- 
like us, and he won't come and dine with us. What's the conse- 
quence? He doesn't lose much of a dinner." 

"Indeed, I think he loses a very good dinner," interrupted 
Scrooge's niece. Everybody else said the same; and they must 
be allowed to have been competent judges, because they had 
just had dinner, and, with the dessert upon the table, were 
clustered round the fire, by lamplight. 

"Well! I'm very glad to hear it," said Scrooge's nephew, 
"because I haven't any great faith in these young housekeepers. 
What do you say, Topper?" 

Topper had clearly got his eye upon one of Scrooge's niece's 
sisters, for he answered that a bachelor was a wretched outcast, 
who had no right to express an opinion on the subject. Whereat 
Scrooge's niece's sister — the plump one with the lace tucker, 
not the one with the roses — blushed. 

"Do go on, Fred," said Scrooge's niece, clapping her hands. 
"He never finishes what he begins to say! He is such a ridic- 
ulous fellow ! ' ' 



216 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Scrooge's nephew reveled in another laugh, and as it was 
impossible to keep the infection off, though the plump sister 
tried hard to do it with aromatic vinegar, his example was 
unanimously followed. 

"I was only going to say," said Scrooge's nephew, "that 
the consequence of his taking a dislike to us, and not making 
merry with us, is, as I think, that he loses some pleasant moments, 
which could do him no harm. I am sure he loses pleasanter 
companions than he can find in his own thoughts, either in his 
moldy old office or in his dusty chambers. I mean to give him the 
same chance every year, whether he likes it or not, for I pity 
him. He may rail at Christmas till he dies, but he can't help 
thinking better of it — I defy him — if he finds me going there, in 
good temper, year after year, and saying, * Uncle Scrooge, how 
are you V If it only puts him in the vein to leave his poor clerk 
fifty pounds, that's something; and I think I shook him yester- 
day." 

It was their turn to laugh now at the notion of his shaking 
Scrooge. But being thoroughly good-natured, and not much car- 
ing what they laughed at, so that they laughed at any rate, he 
encouraged them in their merriment, and passed the bottle joy- 
ously. 

After tea they had some music. For they were a musical fam- 
ily, and knew what they were about, when they sang a glee or 
catch, I can assure you ; especially Topper, who could growl away 
in the bass like a good one, and never swell the large veins in his 
forehead, or get red in the face over it. Scrooge's niece played 
well upon the harp ; and played among other tunes a simple lit- 
tle air (a mere nothing; you might learn to whistle it in two 
minutes), which had been familiar to the child who fetched 
Scrooge from the boarding school, as he had been reminded by 
the Ghost of Christmas Past. "When this strain of music sounded, 
all the things the Ghost had shown him came upon his mind ; he 
softened more and more; and thought if he could have listened 
to it often, years ago, he might have cultivated the kindnesses of 
Kfe for his own happiness with his own hands. 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 217 

But they didn't devote the whole evening to music. After a 
while they played at forfeits ; for it is good to be children some- 
times, and never better than at Christmas, when its mighty 
Founder was a child Himself. Stop ! There was first a game at 
blindman's buff. Of course there was. And I no more believe 
Topper was really blind than I believe he had eyes in his boots. 
My opinion is that it was a done thing between him and Scrooge 's 
nephew ; and that the Ghost of Christmas Present knew it. The 
way he went after that plump sister in the lace tucker was an 
outrage on the credulity of human nature. Knocking down the 
fire irons, tumbling over the chairs, bumping up against the 
piano, smothering himself among the curtains; wherever she 
went, there went he. He always knew where the plump sister 
was. He wouldn't catch anybody else. If you had fallen up 
against him, as some of them did, and stood there, he would have 
made a feint of endeavoring to seize you which would have been 
an affront to your understanding; and would instantly have 
sidled off in the direction of the plump sister. She often cried 
out that it wasn 't fair ; and it really was not. But when at last, 
he caught her ; when, in spite of all her silken rustlings, and her 
rapid flutterings past him, he got her into a corner whence there 
was no escape, then his conduct was the most execrable. For his 
pretending not to know her, his pretending that it was necessary 
to touch her headdress, and further to assure himself of her 
identity by pressing a certain ring upon her finger and a cer- 
tain chain about her neck, was vile, monstrous! No doubt she 
told him her opinion of it, when, another blind man being in 
office, they were so very confidential together behind the cur- 
tains. 

Scrooge's niece was not one of the blindman's buff party, but 
was made comfortable with a large chair and a footstool, in a 
snug corner, where the Ghost and Scrooge were close behind her. 
But she joined in the forfeits, and loved her love to admiration 
with all the letters of the alphabet. Likewise at the game of 
How, When, and Where, she w T as very great and, to the secret 
joy of Scrooge's nephew, beat her sisters hollow; though they 



218 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

were sharp girls, too, as Topper could have told you. There 
might have been twenty people there, young and old, but they all 
played, and so did Scrooge ; for, wholly forgetting, in the interest 
he had in what was going on, that his voice made no sound in 
their ears, he sometimes came out with his guess quite loud, and 
very often guessed quite right, too ; for the sharpest needle, war- 
ranted not to cut in the eye, was not sharper than Scrooge, blunt 
as he took it in his head to be. 

The Ghost was greatly pleased to find him in this mood and 
looked upon him with such favor that he begged like a boy to be 
allowed to stay until the guests departed. But this the Spirit said 
could not be done. 

' ' Here is a new game, ' ' said Scrooge. ■ ' One half -hour, Spirit, 
only one ! ' ' 

It was a game called Yes and No, where Scrooge 's nephew had 
to think of something, and the rest must find out what ; he only 
answering to their questions yes or no, as the case was. The 
brisk fire of question to which he was exposed elicited from him 
that he was thinking of an animal, a live animal, rather a dis- 
agreeable animal, a savage animal, an animal that growled and 
grunted sometimes, and talked sometimes, and lived in London, 
and walked about the streets, and wasn't made a show of, and 
wasn't led by anybody, and didn't live in a menagerie, and was 
never killed in a market, and was not a horse, or an ass, or a cow, 
or a bull, or a tiger, or a dog, or a pig, or a cat, or a bear. At every 
fresh question that was put to him, this nephew burst into a fresh 
roar of laughter ; and was so inexpressibly tickled that he was 
obliged to get up off the sofa and stamp. At last the plump sister, 
falling into a similar state, cried out : 

' ' I have found it out ! I know what it is, Fred ! I know what 
it is!" 

''What is it?" cried Fred. 

' ' It 's your Uncle Scro-o-o-oge ! ' ' 

Which it certainly was. Admiration was the universal senti- 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 



219 




ment, though some objected that the reply to "Is it a bear?" 
ought to have been ' ' Yes ' ' ; inasmuch as an answer in the nega- 
tive was sufficient to have diverted their thoughts from Mr. 
Scrooge, supposing they ever had any tendency that way. 

1 ' He has given us plenty of merriment, I am sure, ' ' said Fred, 
"and it would be ungrateful not to drink his health. Here is a 
glass of mulled wine ready to our hand at the moment; and I 
say, ' Uncle Scrooge!' " 

"Well! Uncle Scrooge!" they cried. 

"A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to the old man, 
whatever he is!" said Scrooge's nephew. "He wouldn't take it 
from me, but may he have it, nevertheless. Uncle Scrooge ! ' ' 

Uncle Scrooge had imperceptibly become so gay and light of 
heart that he would have pledged the unconscious company in 
return, and thanked them in an inaudible speech, if the Ghost 
had given him time. But the whole scene passed off in the breath 



220 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

of the last word spoken by his nephew; and he and the Spirit 
were again upon their travels. 

Much they saw, and far they went, and many homes they 
visited, but always with a happy end. The Spirit stood beside 
sick beds, and they were cheerful; on foreign lands, and they 
were close at home ; by struggling men, and they were patient in 
their greater hope; by poverty, and it was rich. In almshouse, 
hospital, and jail, in misery's every refuge, where vain man in 
his little brief authority had not made fast the door, and barred 
the Spirit out, he left his blessing, and taught Scrooge his 
precepts. 

It was a long night, if it were only a night ; but Scrooge had 
his doubts of this, because the Christmas holidays appeared to be 
condensed into the space of time they passed together. It was 
strange, too, that while Scrooge remained unaltered in his out- 
ward form, the Ghost grew older, clearly older. Scrooge had 
observed this change, but never spoke of it until they left a chil- 
dren's Twelfth-night party, when, looking at the Spirit as they 
stood together in an open place, he noticed that its hair was 
gray. 

1 ' Are spirits ' lives so short ? ' ' asked Scrooge. 

"My life upon this globe is very brief," replied the Ghost. 
"It ends tonight." 

' ' Tonight ! ' ' cried Scrooge. 

' ' Tonight at midnight. Hark ! The time is drawing near. ' ' 

The chimes were ringing the three quarters past eleven at that 
moment. 

"Forgive me if I am not justified in what I ask," said Scrooge, 
looking intently at the Spirit's robe, "but I see something 
strange, and not belonging to yourself, protruding from your 
skirts. Is it a foot or a claw f ' ' 

"It might be a claw, for the flesh there is upon it," was the 
Spirit 's sorrowful reply. ' ' Look here. ' ' 

From the foldings of its robe it brought two children, 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 221 

wretched, abject, frightful, hideous, miserable. They knelt down 
at its feet, and clung upon the outside of its garment. 

' ' Oh, Man ! look here. Look, down here ! ' ' exclaimed the Ghost. 

They were a boy and girl. Yellow, meager, ragged, scowling, 
wolfish; but prostrate, too, in their humility. Where graceful 
youth should have filled their features out and touched them 
with its freshest tints, a stale and shriveled hand, like that of 
age, had pinched and twisted them and pulled them into shreds. 
Where angels might have sat enthroned, devils lurked, and glared 
out menacing. No change, no degradation, through all the mys- 
teries of wonderful creation, has monsters half so horrible and 
dread. 

Scrooge started back, appalled. Having them shown to him 
in this way, he tried to say that they were fine children ; but the 
words choked themselves, rather than be parties to a lie of such 
enormous magnitude. 

11 Spirit! are they yours?" Scrooge could say no more. 

"They are Man's," said the Spirit, looking down upon them. 
1 ' And they cling to me, appealing from their fathers. This boy is 
Ignorance. This girl is Want. Beware them both, and all of 
their degree, but most of all beware this boy, for on his brow I 
see that written which is Doom, unless the writing be erased. 
Deny it ! " cried the Spirit, stretching out its hand toward the 
city. ' ' Slander those who tell it ye ! Admit it for your factious 
purposes, and make it worse ! And bide the end ! ' ' 

"Have they no refuge or resource?" cried Scrooge. 

"Are there no prisons?" said the Spirit, turning on him for 
the last time with his own words. i i Are there no workhouses ? ' ' 
The bell struck twelve. 

Scrooge looked about him for the Ghost, and saw it not. As the 
last stroke ceased to vibrate, he remembered the prediction of old 
Jacob Marley, and lifting up his eyes, beheld a solemn Phantom, 
draped and hooded, coming, like a mist along the ground, toward 
him. 



222 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

STAYE FOUR 

THE LAST OF THE SPIRITS 

The Phantom slowly, gravely, silently approached. When it 
came near him, Scrooge bent down upon his knee ; for in the very 
air through which this Spirit moved it seemed to scatter gloom 
and mystery. 

It was shrouded in a deep black garment, which concealed its 
head, its face, its form, and left nothing of it visible save one 
outstretched hand. But for this it would have been difficult to 
detach its figure from the night and separate it from the darkness 
by which it was surrounded. 

He felt that it was tall and stately when it came beside him, 
and that its mysterious presence filled him with solemn dread. 
He knew no more, for the Spirit neither spoke nor moved. 

"I am in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet To 
Come?" said Scrooge. 

The Spirit answered not, but pointed downward with its hand. 

"You are about to show me shadows of the things that have 
not happened, but will happen in the time before us," Scrooge 
pursued. "Is that so, Spirit?" 

The upper portion of the garment was contracted for an in- 
stant in its fold, as if the Spirit had inclined its head. That was 
the only answer he received. 

Although well used to ghostly company by this time, Scrooge 
feared the silent shape so much that his legs trembled beneath 
him, and he found that he could hardly stand when he prepared 
to follow it. The Spirit paused a moment, as observing his con- 
dition, and giving him time to recover. 

But Scrooge was all the worse for this. It thrilled him with a 
vague, uncertain horror, to know that behind the dusky shroud 
there were ghostly eyes intently fixed upon him, while he, though 
he stretched his own to the utmost, could see nothing but a spec- 
tral hand and one great heap of black. 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL . 223 

1 ' Ghost of the Future ! " he exclaimed. ■ ' I fear you more than 
any Specter I have seen. But, as I know your purpose is to do 
me good, and as I hope to live to be another man from what I 
was, I am prepared to bear you company, and do it with a thank- 
ful heart. Will you not speak tome?" 

It gave him no reply. The hand was pointed straight before 
them. 

"Lead on!" said Scrooge. "Lead on! The night is waning 
fast, and it is precious time to me, I know. Lead on, Spirit ! ' ' 

The Phantom moved away as it had come toward him. Scrooge 
followed in the shadow of its dress, which bore him up, he 
thought, and carried him along. 

They scarcely seemed to enter the city; for the city rather 
seemed to spring up about them, and encompass them of its own 
act. But there they were, in the heart of it ; on 'Change, amongst 
the merchants, who hurried up and down, and chinked the 
money in their pockets, and conversed in groups, and looked at 
their watches, and trifled thoughtfully with their great gold 
seals, and so forth, as Scrooge had seen them often. 

The Spirit stopped beside one little knot of business men. Ob- 
serving that the hand was pointed to them, Scrooge advanced to 
listen to their talk. 

"No," said a great fat man with a monstrous chin, "I don't 
know much about it, either way. I only know he 's dead. ' ' 

"When did he die?" inquired another. 

"Last night, I believe." 

"Why, what was the matter with him?" asked a third, taking 
a vast quantity of snuff out of a very large snuffbox. ' ' I thought 
he'd never die." 

1 ' God knows, ' ' said the first, with a yawn. 

' ' What has he done with his money ? ' ' asked a red-faced gen- 
tleman. 

' ' I haven 't heard, ' ' said the man with the large chin, yawning 
again. "Left it to his Company, perhaps. He hasn't left it to me. 
That's all I know." 



224 



ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 




V/2 



This pleasantry was received with a general laugh. 

"It's likely to be a very cheap funeral, ' ' said the same speaker ; 
"for upon my life I don't know of anybody to go to it. Suppose 
we make up a party and volunteer?" 

"I don't mind going if a lunch is provided," observed the 
gentleman. "But I must be fed, if I make one." 

Another laugh. 

"Well, I am the most disinterested among you, after all," said 
the first speaker, "for I never wear black gloves, and I never eat 
lunch. But I '11 offer to go, if anybody else will. When I come to 
think of it, I'm not at all sure that I wasn't his most particular 
friend; for we used to stop and speak whenever we met. Bye, 
bye!" 

Speakers and listeners strolled away, and mixed with other 
groups. Scrooge knew the men, and looked toward the Spirit for 
an explanation. 

The Phantom glided on into a street. Its finger pointed to two 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 225 

persons meeting. Scrooge listened again, thinking that the 
explanation might lie here. 

He knew these men, also, perfectly. They were men of busi- 
ness, very wealthy, and of great importance. He had made a 
point always of standing well in their esteem, in a business point 
of view, that is, strictly in a business point of view. 

"How are you?" said one. 

' ' How are you ? ' ' returned the other. 

"Well!" said the first. "Old Scratch has got his own at last, 
hey?" 

"So I am told," returned the second. "Cold, isn't it?" 

"Seasonable for Christmas-time. You're not a skater, I sup- 
pose?" 

1 ' No. No. Something else to think of. Good-morning ! ' ' 

Not another word. That was their greeting, their conversation, 
and their parting. 

Scrooge was at first inclined to be surprised that the Spirit 
should attach importance to conversations apparently so trivial ; 
but feeling assured that they must have some hidden purpose, 
he set himself to consider what it was likely to be. They could 
scarcely be supposed to have any bearing on the death of Jacob, 
his old partner, for that w T as Past, and this Ghost 's province was 
the Future. Nor could he think of anyone immediately connected 
with himself, to whom he could apply them. But nothing doubt- 
ing that to whomsoever they applied they had some latent moral 
for his own improvement, he resolved to treasure up every word 
he heard, and everything he saw; and especially to observe the 
shadow of himself when it appeared. For he had an expectation 
that the conduct of his future self would give him the clue he 
missed, and would render the solution of these riddles easy. 

He looked about in that very place for his own image ; but an- 
other man stood in his accustomed corner, and though the clock 
pointed to his usual time of day for being there, he saw no 
likeness of himself among the multitudes that poured in through 
the porch. It gave him little surprise, however ; for he had been 



226 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

revolving in his mind a change of life, and thought and hoped he 
saw his new-born resolutions carried out in this. 

Quiet and dark beside him stood the Phantom, with its out- 
stretched hand. When he aroused himself from his thoughtful 
quest, he fancied from the turn of the hand and its situation in 
reference to himself that the Unseen Eyes were looking at him 
keenly. It made him shudder and feel very cold. 

They left the busy scene and went into an obscure part of the 
town, where Scrooge had never penetrated before, although he 
recognized its situation and its bad repute. The ways were foul 
and narrow; the shops and houses wretched; the people half- 
naked, drunken, slipshod, ugly. Alleys and archways, like so 
many cesspools, disgorged their offenses of smell, and dirt, and 
life upon the straggling streets; and the whole quarter reeked 
with crime, with filth, and misery. 

Far in this den of infamous resort there was a low-browed, 
beetling shop, below a penthouse roof, where iron, old rags, bot- 
tles, bones, and greasy offal were bought. Upon the floor within 
were piled up heaps of rusty keys, nails, chains, hinges, files, 
scales, weights, and refuse iron of all kinds. Secrets that few 
would like to scrutinize were bred and hidden in mountains of 
unseemly rags, masses of corrupt fat, and sepulchers of bones. 
Sitting in among the wares he dealt in, by a charcoal stove made 
of old bricks, was a gray -haired rascal, nearly seventy years of 
age, who had screened himself from the cold air without by a 
frowsy curtaining of miscellaneous tatters, hung upon a line ; and 
smoked his pipe in all the luxury of calm retirement. 

Scrooge and the Phantom came into the presence of this man 
just as a woman with a heavy bundle slunk into the shop. But 
she had scarcely entered, when another woman, similarly laden, 
came in, too; and she was closely followed by a man in faded 
black, who was no less startled by the sight of them than they had 
been upon the recognition of each other. After a short period of 
blank astonishment, in which the old man with the pipe had 
joined them, they all three burst into a laugh. 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 227 

' 'Let the charwoman alone to be the first!" cried she who had 
entered first. "Let the laundress alone to be the second; and let 
the undertaker's man alone to be the third. Look here, old Joe, 
here 's a chance ! If we haven 't all three met here without mean- 
ing it!" 

"You couldn't have met in a better place," said old Joe, re- 
moving his pipe from his mouth. "Come into the parlor. You 
were made free of it long ago, you know; and the other two an't 
strangers. Stop till I shut the door of the shop. Ah, how it 
skreeks ! There an 't such a rusty bit of metal in the place as its 
own hinges, I believe; and I'm sure there's no such old bones 
here as mine. Ha, ha! We're all suitable to our calling; we're 
well matched. Come into the parlor. Come into the parlor. " 

The parlor was the space behind the screen of rags. The old 
man raked the fire together with an old stair rod, and having 
trimmed his smoky lamp (for it was night) with the stem of 
his pipe, put it in his mouth again. 

While he did this, the woman who had already spoken threw 
her bundle on the floor, and sat down in a flaunting manner on a 
stool, crossing her elbows on her knees, and looking with a bold 
defiance at the other two. 

1 ' What odds, then ! What odds, Mrs. Dilber ? ' ' said the woman. 
1 ' Every person has a right to take care of themselves. He always 
did!" 

* ' That 's true, indeed ! ' ' said the laundress. ' ' No man more so. ' ' 

"Why, then, don't stand staring as if you was afraid, woman; 
who's the wiser? We're not going to pick holes in each other's 
coats, I suppose ? ' ' 

"No, indeed!" said Mrs. Dilber and the man together. "We 
should hope not." 

1 ' Very well, then ! ' ' cried the woman. ' ' That 's enough. Who 's 
the worse for the loss of a few things like these ? Not a dead man, 
I suppose." 

' ' No, indeed, ' ' said Mrs. Dilber, laughing. 

"If he wanted to keep 'em after he was dead, a wicked old 



228 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

screw, ' ' pursued the woman, ' ' why wasn 't he natural in his life- 
time? If he had been, he'd have had somebody to look after him 
when he was struck with Death, instead of lying gasping out his 
last there, alone by himself. ' ' 

1 ' It 's the truest word that ever was spoke, ' ' said Mrs. Dilber. 
" It's a judgment on him." 

* ' I wish it was a little heavier one, ' ' replied the woman ; ' ' and 
it should have been, you may depend upon it, if I could have 
laid my hands on anything else. Open that bundle, old Joe ? and 
let me know the value of it. Speak out plain. I'm not afraid to 
be the first, nor afraid for them to see it. We knew pretty well 
that we were helping ourselves, before we met here, I believe. 
It 's no sin. Open the bundle, Joe. ' ' 

But the gallantry of her friends would not allow of this ; and 
the man in faded black, mounting the breach first, produced his 
plunder. It was not extensive. A seal or two, a pencil case, a pair 
of sleeve buttons, and a brooch of no great value were all. They 
were severally examined and appraised by old Joe, who chalked 
the sums he was disposed to give for each, upon the wall, and 
added them up into a total when he found there was nothing more 
to come. 

' ' That 's your account, ' ' said Joe, l ' and I wouldn 't give another 
sixpence, if I was to be boiled for not doing it. Who's next?" 

Mrs. Dilber was next. Sheets and towels, a little wearing ap- 
parel, two old-fashioned silver teaspoons, a pair of sugar tongs, 
and a few boots. Her account was stated on the wall in the same 
manner. 

"I always give too much to ladies. It's a weakness of mine, 
and that's the way I ruin myself," said old Joe. ''That's your 
account. If you asked me for another penny, and made it an open 
question, I'd repent of being so liberal and knock off half a 
crown. ' ' 

"And now undo my bundle, Joe," said the first woman. 

Joe went down on his knees for the greater convenience of 
opening it, and having unfastened a great many knots, dragged 
out a large and heavy roll of some dark stuff. 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 229 

1 ' What do you call this ? ' ' said Joe. ' ' Bed curtains ! ' ' 

1 ' Ah ! ' ' returned the woman, laughing and leaning forward on 
her crossed arms. ' ' Bed curtains ! ' ' 

"You don't mean to say you took 'em down, rings and all, 
with him lying there ? ' ' said Joe. 

"Yes, I do," replied the woman. "Why not?" 

"You were born to make your fortune," said Joe, "and you'll 
certainly do it. ' ' 

1 ' I certainly shan 't hold my hand, when I can get anything in 
it by reaching it out, for the sake of such a man as he was, I 
promise you, Joe," returned the woman, coolly. "Don't drop 
that oil upon the blankets, now. ' ' 

"His blankets?" asked Joe. 

"Whose else's do you think?" replied the woman. "He isn't 
likely to take cold without 'em, I dare say. ' ' 

"I hope he didn't die of anything catching? Eh?" said old 
Joe, stopping in his work, and looking up. 

1 ' Don 't you be afraid of that, ' ' returned the woman. ' ' I ain 't 
so fond of his company that I 'd loiter about him for such things, 
if he did. Ah! you may look through that shirt till your eyes 
ache ; but you won't find a hole in it, nor a threadbare place. It's 
the best he had, and a fine one, too. They'd have wasted it, if it 
hadn 't been for me. ' ' 

"What do you call wasting of it?" asked old Joe. 

"Putting it on him to be buried in, to be sure," replied the 
woman with a laugh. ' ' Somebody was fool enough to do it, but I 
took it off again. If calico ain't good enough for such a pur- 
pose, it isn't good enough for anything. It's quite as becoming 
to the body. He can't look uglier than he did in that one." 

Scrooge listened to this dialogue in horror. As they sat 
grouped about their spoil, in the scanty light afforded by the 
old man's lamp, he viewed them with a detestation and disgust 
which could hardly have been greater, though they had been 
obscene demons, marketing the corpse itself. 

' ' Ha, ha ! " laughed the same woman, when old Joe, producing 
a flannel bag with money in it, told out their several gains upon 



230 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

the ground. ' ' This is the end of it, you see ! He frightened every- 
one away from him when he was alive, to profit us when he was 
dead ! Ha, ha, ha ! " 

"Spirit !" said Scrooge, shuddering from head to foot. "I 
see, I see. The case of this unhappy man might be my own. My 
life tends that way, now. Merciful Heaven, what is this ! ' ' 

He recoiled in terror, for the scene had changed, and now he 
almost touched a bed, a bare, uncurtained bed, on which, beneath 
a ragged sheet, there lay a something covered up, which, though 
it was dumb, announced itself in awful language. 

The room was very dark, too dark to be observed with any 
accuracy, though Scrooge glanced round it in obedience to a 
secret impulse, anxious to know what kind of room it was. A pale 
light, rising in the outer air, fell straight upon the bed; and on 
it, plundered and bereft, unwatched, unwept, uncared for, was 
the body of this man. 

Scrooge glanced toward the Phantom. Its steady hand was 
pointed to the head. The cover was so carelessly adjusted that the 
slightest raising of it, the motion of a finger upon Scrooge's part, 
would have disclosed the face. He thought of it, felt how easy it 
would be to do, and longed to do it ; but had no more power to 
withdraw the veil than to dismiss the Specter at his side. 

cold, cold, rigid, dreadful Death, set up thine altar here, and 
dress it with such terrors as thou hast at thy command ; for this 
is thy dominion! But of the loved, revered, and honored head, 
thou canst not turn one hair to thy dread purposes, or make one 
feature odious. It is not that the hand is heavy and will fall 
down when released ; it is not that the heart and pulse are still ; 
but that the hand was open, generous, and true ; the heart brave, 
warm, and tender; and the pulse a man's. Strike, Shadow, 
strike ! And see his good deeds springing from the wound, to sow 
the world with life immortal ! 

No voice pronounced these words in Scrooge's ears, and yet 
he heard them when he looked upon the bed. He thought, if this 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL ' 231 

man could be raised up now, what would be his foremost 
thoughts? Avarice, hard dealing, griping cares? They have 
brought him to a rich end, truly ! 

He lay in the dark, empty house, with not a man, a woman, or 
a child to say that he was kind to me in this or that, and for the 
memory of one kind word I will be kind to him. A cat was tear- 
ing at the door, and there was a sound of gnawing rats beneath 
the hearthstone. What they wanted in the room of deafh, and 
why they were so restless and disturbed, Scrooge did not dare to 
think. 

" Spirit!" he said, "this is a fearful place. In leaving it, I 
shall not leave its lesson, trust me. Let us go!" 

Still the Ghost pointed with an unmoved finger to the head. 

"I understand you," Scrooge returned, "and I would do it, 
if I could. But I have not the power, Spirit. I have not the 
power. ' ' 

Again it seemed to look upon him. 

"If there is any person in the town who feels emotion caused 
by this man's death," said Scrooge quite agonized, "show that 
person to me, Spirit, I beseech you ! ' ' 

The Phantom spread its dark robe before him for a moment, 
like a wing; and withdrawing it, revealed a room by daylight, 
where a mother and her children were. 

She was expecting someone, and with anxious eagerness; for 
she walked up and down the room ; started at every sound ; looked 
out from the window ; glanced at the clock ; tried, but in vain, to 
work with her needle; and could hardly bear the voices of the 
children in their play. 

At length the long-expected knock was heard. She hurried to 
the door, and met her husband, a man whose face was careworn 
and depressed, though he was young. There was a remarkable 
expression in it now; a kind of serious delight of which he felt 
ashamed, and which he struggled to repress. 

He sat down to the dinner that had been hoarding for him by 



232 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

the fire ; and when she asked him faintly what news (which was 
not until after a long silence), he appeared embarrassed how to 
answer. 

' ' Is it good, ' ' she said, ' ' or bad ? ' ' — to help him. 

' ' Bad, ' ' he answered. 

I I We are quite ruined ? ' ' 

"No. There is hope yet, Caroline." 

' ' If he relents, ' ' she said, amazed, ' ' there is ! Nothing is past 
hope, if such a miracle has happened. ' ' 

"He is past relenting," said her husband. "He is dead." 

She was a mild and patient creature, if her face spoke truth ; 
but she was thankful in her soul to hear it, and she said so, with 
clasped hands. She prayed forgiveness the next moment, and 
was sorry ; but the first was the emotion of the heart. 

' ' What the half -drunken woman whom I told you of last night 
said to me when I tried to see him and obtain a week 's delay, and 
what I thought was a mere excuse to avoid me, turns out to 
have been quite true. He was not only very ill, but dying, then. ' ' 

"To whom will our debt be transferred ? ' ' 

I I I don 't know. But before that time we shall be ready with 
the money; and even though we were not, it would be bad for- 
tune indeed to find so merciless a creditor in his successor. We 
may sleep tonight with light hearts, Caroline ! ' ' 

Yes. Soften it as they would, their hearts were lighter. The 
children's faces, hushed, and clustered round to hear what they 
so little understood, were brighter; and it was a happier house 
for this man's death! The only emotion that the Ghost could 
show him, caused by the event, was one of pleasure. 

"Let me see some tenderness connected with a death," said 
Scrooge; "or that dark chamber, Spirit, which we left just now, 
will be forever present to me. ' ' 

The Ghost conducted him through several streets familiar to 
his feet ; and as they went along, Scrooge looked here and there 
to find himself, but nowhere was he to be seen. They entered poor 
Bob Cratchit's house, the dwelling he had visited before, and 
found the mother and the children seated round the fire. 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 233 

Quiet. Very quiet. The noisy little Cratchits were as still as 
statues in one corner, and sat looking up at Peter, who had a book 
before him. The mother and her daughters were engaged in 
sewing. But surely they were quiet! 

' ' ' And he took a child, and set him in the midst of them. ' ' ' 

Where had Scrooge heard those words ? He had not dreamed 
them. The boy must have read them out, as he and the Spirit 
crossed the threshold. Why did he not go on? 

The mother laid her work upon the table, and put her hand up 
to her face. 

"The color hurts my eyes," she said. 

The color? Ah, poor Tiny Tim! 

1 ' They 're better now again, ' ' said Cratchit 's wife. ' ' It makes 
them weak by candlelight; and I wouldn't show weak eyes to 
your father when he comes home, for the world. It must be near 
his time." 

* l Past it, rather, ' ' Peter answered, shutting up his book. ' ' But 
I think he's walked a little slower than he used, these few last 
evenings, mother." 

They were very quiet again. At last she said, and in a steady, 
cheerful voice that only faltered once: 

"I have known him walk with — I have known him walk with 
Tiny Tim upon his shoulder, very fast indeed." 

"And so have I," cried Peter. "Often." 

"And so have I," exclaimed another. So had all. 

"But he was so very light to carry," she resumed, intent 
upon her work, "and his father loved him so, that it was no 
trouble — no trouble. And there is your father at the door ! ' ' 

She hurried out to meet him ; and little Bob in his comforter — 
he had need of it, poor fellow — came in. His tea was ready for 
him on the hob, and they all tried who should help him to it most. 
Then the two young Cratchits got upon his knees and laid, each 
child, a little cheek against his face, as if they said, ' ■ Don 't mind 
it, father. Don 't be grieved ! ' ' 

Bob was very cheerful with them, and spoke pleasantly to all 
the family. He looked at the work upon the table, and praised 



234 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

the industry and speed of Mrs. Cratchit and the girls. They 
would be done long before Sunday, he said. 

' ' Sunday ! You went today, then, Robert ? ' ' said his wife. 

"Yes, my dear," returned Bob. "I wish you could have gone. 
It would have done you good to see how green a place it is. But 
you'll see it often. I promised him that I would walk there on a 
Sunday. My little, little child !" cried Bob. ' 'My little child !" 

He broke down all at once. He couldn't help it. If he could 
have helped it, he and his child would have been farther apart, 
perhaps, than they were. 

He left the room, and went upstairs into the room above, which 
was lighted cheerfully, and hung with Christmas greens. There 
was a chair set close beside the child, and there were signs of 
someone having been there lately. Poor Bob sat down in it, and 
when he had thought a little and composed himself, he kissed the 
little face. He was reconciled to what had happened, and went 
down again quite happy. 

They drew about the fire, and talked; the girls and mother 
working still. Bob told them of the extraordinary kindness of 
Mr. Scrooge's nephew, whom he had scarcely seen but once, and 
who,' meeting him in the street that day, and seeing that he 
looked a little — "just a little down, you know," said Bob, in- 
quired what had happened to distress him. "On which," said 
Bob, ' ' for he is the pleasantest-spoken gentleman you ever heard, 
I told him. 'I am heartily sorry for it, Mr. Cratchit,' he said, 
'and heartily sorry for your good wife.' By the by, how he 
ever knew that, I don't know." 

"Knew what, my dear?" 

' ' Why, that you were a good wife, ' ' replied Bob. 

' ' Everybody knows that ! ' ' said Peter. 

"Very well observed, my boy!" cried Bob. "I hope they do. 
'Heartily sorry,' he said, 'for your good wife. If I can be of 
service to you in any way,' he said, giving me his card, 'that's 
where I live. Pray come to me.' Now, it wasn't," cried Bob, 
"for the sake of anything he might be able to do for us so much 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 235 

as for his kind way that this was quite delightful. It really 
seemed as if he had known our Tiny Tim, and felt with us." 

* ' I 'm sure he 's a good soul ! ' ' said Mrs. Cratchit. 

' ' You would be surer of it, my dear, ' ' returned Bob, ' ' if you 
saw and spoke to him. I shouldn't be at all surprised, mark 
what I say, if he got Peter a better situation/ ' 

' l Only hear that, Peter, ' ' said Mrs. Cratchit. 

"And then," cried one of the girls, "Peter will be keeping 
company with someone, and setting up for himself. ' ' 

1 1 Get along with you ! ' ' retorted Peter, grinning. 

"It's just as likely as not," said Bob, "one of these days; 
though there 's plenty of time for that, my dear. But however and 
whenever we part from one another, I am sure we shall none 
of us forget poor Tiny Tim — shall we — or this first parting that 
there was among us?" 

"Never, father!" cried they all. 

"And I know," said Bob, "I know, my dears, that when we 
recollect how patient and how mild he was — although he was a 
little, little child — we shall not quarrel easily among ourselves, 
and forget poor Tiny Tim in doing it. ' ' 

1 1 No, never, father ! ' ' they all cried again. ' ' I am very happy, ' ' 
said little Bob, "I am very happy!" 

Mrs. Cratchit kissed him, his daughters kissed him, the two 
young Cratchits kissed him, and Peter and himself shook hands. 
Spirit of Tiny Tim, thy childish essence was from God ! 

"Specter," said Scrooge, "something informs me that our 
parting moment is at hand. I know it, but I know not how. Tell 
me what man that was whom we saw lying dead ? ' ' 

The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come conveyed him, as before 
— though at a different time, he thought ; indeed, there seemed no 
order in these latter visions save that they were in the Future— 
into the resorts of business men, but showed him not himself. In- 
deed, the Spirit did not stay for anything, but went straight on, 
as to the end just now desired, until besought by Scrooge to 
tarry for a moment. 



236 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

4 ' This court, ' ' said Scrooge, ' * through which we hurry now is 
where my place of occupation is, and has been for a length of 
time. I see the house. Let me behold what I shall be, in days 
to come ! ' ' 

The Spirit stopped ; the hand was pointed elsewhere. 

"The house is yonder," Scrooge exclaimed. "Why do you 
point away?" 

The inexorable finger underwent no change. 

Scrooge hastened to the window of his office, and looked in. 
It was an office still, but not his. The furniture was not the same, 
and the figure in the chair was not himself. The Phantom 
pointed as before. 

He joined it once again, and wondering why and whither he 
had gone, accompanied it until they reached an iron gate. He 
paused to look round before entering. 

A churchyard. Here, then, the wretched man whose name he 
had now to learn, lay underneath the ground. It was a worthy 
place. Walled in by houses; overrun by grass and weeds, the 
growth of vegetation 's death, not life ; choked up with too much 
burying. A worthy place ! 

The- Spirit stood among the graves, and pointed down to one. 
He advanced toward it trembling. The Phantom was exactly 
as it had been, but he dreaded that he saw new meaning in its 
solemn shape. 

' ' Before I draw nearer to that stone to which you point, ' ' said 
Scrooge, ' ' answer me one question. Are these the shadows of 
the things that Will be, or are they shadows of things that May 
be, only?" 

Still the Ghost pointed downward to the grave by which it 
stood. 

"Men's course will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if per- 
severed in, they must lead, ' ' said Scrooge. ' ' But if the courses be 
departed from, the ends will change. Say it is thus with what 
you show me ! ' ' 

The Spirit was immovable as ever. 

Scrooge crept toward it, trembling as he went ; and following 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 237 

the finger, read upon the stone of the neglected grave hi& own 
name, Ebenezer Scrooge. 

1 ' Am I that man who lay upon the bed ? " he cried, upon his 
knees. 

The finger pointed from the grave to him, and back again. 

"No, Spirit! Oh, no, no!" 

The finger still was there. 

"Spirit!" he cried, tight clutching at its robe. "Hear me! 
I am not the man I was. I will not be the man I must have been 
but for this intercourse. Why show me this if I am past all 
hope!" 

For the first time the hand appeared to shake. 

"Good Spirit," he pursued, as down upon the ground he fell 
before it, "your nature intercedes for me and pities me. Assure 
me that I yet may change these shadows you have shown me, by 
an altered life ! ' ' 

The kind hand trembled. 

1 ' I will honor Christmas in my heart and try to keep it all the 
year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The 
Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out 
the lessons that they teach. Oh, tell me I may sponge away the 
writing on this stone ! ' ' 

In this agony, he caught the spectral hand. It sought to free 
itself, but he was strong in his entreaty, and detained it. The 
Spirit, stronger yet, repulsed him. 

Holding up his hands in one last prayer to have his fate re- 
versed, he saw an alteration in the Phantom 's hood and dress. It 
shrank, collapsed, and dwindled down to a bedpost. 

STAVE FIVE 

THE END OF IT 

Yes ! and the bedpost was his own. The bed was his own, the 
room was his own. Best and happiest of all, the time before him 
was his own, to make amends in! 

1 ' I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future ! ' ' Scrooge 



238 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

repeated, as he scrambled out of bed. "The Spirits of all Three 
shall strive within me. Oh, Jacob Marley! Heaven and the 
Christmas-time be praised for this! I say it on my knees, old 
Jacob, on my knees ! ' ' 

He was so fluttered and so glowing with his good intentions 
that his broken voice would scarcely answer to his call. He had 
been sobbing violently in his conflict with the Spirit, and his face 
was wet with tears. 

1 ' They are not torn down, ' ' cried Scrooge, folding one of his 
bed curtains in his arms, ' ' they are not torn down, rings and all. 
They are here ; I am here ; the shadows of the things that would 
have been may be dispelled. They will be. I know they will ! ' ' 

His hands were busy with his garments all this time, turning 
them inside out, putting them on upside down, tearing them, mis- 
laying them, making them parties to every kind of extravagance. 

1 ' I don 't know what to do ! " cried Scrooge, laughing and cry- 
ing in the same breath. "I am as light as a feather; I am as 
happy as an angel ; I am as merry as a schoolboy ; I am as giddy 
as a drunken man. A Merry Christmas to everybody ! A Happy 
New Year to all the world. Hallo here ! Whoop ! Hallo ! ' ' 

He had frisked into the sitting-room, and was now standing 
there, perfectly winded. 

1 ' There 's the saucepan that the gruel was in ! ' ' cried Scrooge, 
starting off again and frisking round the fireplace. * ' There 's the 
door by which the Ghost of Jacob Marley entered ! There 's the 
corner where the Ghost of Christmas Present sat! There 's the 
window where I saw the wandering Spirits ! It 's all right ; it 's 
all true ; it all happened. Ha, ha, ha ! ' ' 

Really, for a man who had been out of practice for so many 
years, it was a splendid laugh, a most illustrious laugh. The 
father of a long, long line of brilliant laughs ! 

' ' I don 't know what day of the month it is ! ' ' said Scrooge. ' ' I 
don't know how long I've been among the Spirits. I don't 
know anything. I'm quite a baby. Never mind. I don't care. 
I'd rather be a baby. Hallo! Whoop! Hallo here!" 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 239 

He was checked in his transports by the churches ringing out 
the lustiest peals he had ever heard. Clash, clang, hammer, 
ding, dong, bell. Bell, dong, ding, hammer, clang, clash! Oh, 
glorious, glorious! 

Running to the window, he opened it, and put out his head. 
No fog, no mist; clear, bright, jovial, stirring, cold; cold, piping 
for the blood to dance to ; golden sunlight ; heavenly sky ; sweet 
fresh air ; merry bells. Oh, glorious. Glorious ! 

"What's today?" cried Scrooge, calling downward to a boy 
in Sunday clothes, who perhaps had loitered in to look about him. 

' ' Eh ? ' ' returned the boy, with all his might of wonder. 

1 ' What 's today, my fine fellow ? ' ' said Scrooge. 

"Today!" replied the boy. "Why, Christmas Day." 

"It's Christmas Day!" said Scrooge to himself. "I haven't 
missed it. The Spirits have done it all in one night. They can 
do anything they like. Of course they can. Of course they can. 
Hallo, my fine fellow?" 

"Hallo!" returned the boy. 

"Do you know the poulterer's, in the next street but one, at 
the corner?" Scrooge inquired. 

"I should hope I did," replied the lad. 

"An intelligent boy!" said Scrooge. "A remarkable boy! Do 
you know whether they 've sold the prize turkey that was hanging 
up there ? Not the little prize turkey ; the big one ? ' ' 

"What, the one as big as me?" returned the boy. 

1 ' What a delightful boy ! ' ' said Scrooge. " It 's a pleasure to 
talk to him. Yes, my buck ! ' ' 

" It 's hanging there now, ' ' replied the boy. 

"Is it?" said Scrooge. "Go and buy it." 

1 * Walk-ER ! ' ' exclaimed the boy. 

"No, no," said Scrooge, "I am in earnest. Go and buy it, and 
tell 'em to bring it here, that I may give them the direction 
where to take it. Come back with the man, and I'll give you a 
shilling. Come back with him in less than five minutes, and I'll 
give you half a crown ! ' ' 



240 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

The boy was off like a shot. He must have had a steady hand 
at a trigger who could have got a shot off half so fast. 

"Ill send it to Bob Cratchit's!" whispered Scrooge, rubbing 
his hands, and splitting with a laugh. "He shan't know who 
sends it. It's twice the size of Tiny Tim. Joe Miller never made 
such a joke as sending it to Bob 's will be ! " 

The hand in which he wrote the address was not a steady one, 
but write it he did, somehow, and went downstairs to open the 
street door, ready for the coming of the poulterer's man. As he 
stood there, waiting his arrival, the knocker caught his eye. 

"I shall love it as long as I live!" cried Scrooge, patting it 
with his hand. "I scarcely ever looked at it before. What an 
honest expression it has in its face ! ■ It 's a wonderful knocker ! 
Here 's the turkey. Hallo ! Whoop ! How are you ! Merry Christ- 
mas ! ' ' 

It was a turkey ! He could never have stood upon his legs, that 
bird. He would have snapped 'em off short in a minute, like 
sticks of sealing wax. 

"Why, it's impossible to carry that to Camden Town," said 
Scrooge. "You must have a cab." 

The, chuckle with which he said this, and the chuckle with 
which he paid for the turkey, and the chuckle with which he paid 
for the cab, and the chuckle with which he recompensed the 
boy were only to be exceeded by the chuckle with which he sat 
down breathless in his chair again, and chuckled till he cried. 

Shaving was not an easy task, for his hand continued to shake 
very much; and shaving requires attention, even when you 
don't dance while you are at it. But if he had cut the end of 
his nose oif, he would have put a piece of sticking plaster over 
it, and been quite satisfied. 

He dressed himself ' ' all in his best, ' ' and at last got out into 
the streets. The people were by this time pouring forth, as he 
had seen them with the Ghost of Christmas Present ; and walk- 
ing with his hands behind him, Scrooge regarded everyone with 
a delighted smile. He looked so irresistibly pleasant, in a word, 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 241 

that three or four good-humored fellows said, "Good-morning, 
sir ! A Merry Christmas to you ! ' ' And Scrooge said often after- 
wards, that of all the blithe sounds he had ever heard, those were 
the blithest in his ears. 

He had not gone far, when coming on toward him he beheld the 
portly gentleman who had walked into his countinghouse the 
day before and said, ' ' Scrooge and Marley 's, I believe ? " It sent 
a pang across his heart to think how this old gentleman would 
look upon him when they met; but he knew what path lay 
straight before him, and he took it. 

"My dear sir," said Scrooge, quickening his pace, and taking 
the old gentleman by both his hands. ' ' How do you do f I hope 
you succeeded yesterday. It was very kind of you. A Merry 
Christmas to you, sir ! " 

"Mr. Scrooge?" 

"Yes," said Scrooge. "That is my name, and I fear it may not 
be pleasant to you. Allow me to ask your pardon. And will you 
have the goodness" — here Scrooge whispered in his ear. 

"Lord bless me!" cried the gentleman, as if his breath were 
gone. "My dear Mr. Scrooge, are you serious?" 

"If you please," said Mr. Scrooge. "Not a farthing less. A 
great many back payments are included in it, I assure you. Will 
you do me that favor?" 

"My dear sir," said the other, shaking hands with him, "I 
don't know what to say to such munifi " 

"Don't say anything, please," retorted Scrooge. "Come and 
see me. Will you come and see me ? ' ' 

' ' I will ! ' ' cried the old gentleman. And it was clear he meant 
to do it. 

" Thank 'ee," said Scrooge. "I am much obliged to you. I 
thank you fifty times. Bless you ! ' ' 

He went to church, and walked about the streets, and watched 
the people hurrying to and fro, and patted children on the head, 
and questioned beggars, and looked down into the kitchens of 
houses, and up to the windows, and found that everything could 



242 



wm 



ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 







yield him pleasure. He had never dreamed that any walk — that 
anything — could give him so much happiness. In the afternoon 
he turned his steps toward his nephew's house. 

He passed the door a dozen times before he had the courage 
to go up and knock. But he made a dash, and did it : 

' ' Is your master at home, my dear ? ' ' said Scrooge to the girl. 
Nice girl! Very. 

"Yes, sir." 

1 1 Where is he, my love ? ' ' said Scrooge. 

"He's in the dining-room, sir, along with mistress. I'll show 
you upstairs, if you please." 

" Thank 'ee. He knows me," said Scrooge, with his hand 
already on the dining-room lock. " I '11 go in here, my dear. ' ' 

He turned it gently, and sidled his face in round the door. 
They were looking at the table (which was spread out in great 
array) ; for these young housekeepers are always nervous on 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 243 

such points, and like to see that everything is right. ' ' Fred ! ' ' 
said Scrooge. 

Dear heart alive, how his niece by marriage started ! Scrooge 
had forgotten, for the moment, about her sitting in the corner 
with the footstool, or he wouldn't have done it, on any account. 

' ' Why, bless my soul ! ' ' cried Fred, ' ' who 's that ? ' ' 

' l It 's I. Your uncle Scrooge. I have come to dinner. Will you 
let me in, Fred?' ' 

Let him in ! It is a mercy he didn 't shake his arm off. He was 
at home in five minutes. Nothing could be heartier. His niece 
looked just the same. So did Topper when he came. So did the 
plump sister, when she came. So did everyone when they came. 
Wonderful party, wonderful games, wonderful unanimity, won- 
der-ful happiness! 

But he was early at the office next morning. Oh, he was early 
there! If he could only be there first, and catch Bob Cratchit 
coming late ! That was the thing he had set his heart upon. 

And he did it ; yes, he did ! The clock struck nine. No Bob. A 
quarter-past. No Bob. He was full eighteen minutes and a 
half behind his time. Scrooge sat with his door wide open, that 
he might see him come into the Tank. 

His hat was off before he opened the door ; his comforter, too. 
He was on his stool in a jiffy, driving away with his pen as if 
he were trying to overtake nine o 'clock. 

"Hallo!" growled Scrooge, in his accustomed voice as near 
as he could feign it. ' ' What do you mean by coming here at this 
time of day?" 

"I am very sorry, sir," said Bob. "I am behind my time." 

"You are?" repeated Scrooge. "Yes, I think you are. Step 
this way, sir, if you please. ' ' 

"It's only once a year, sir," pleaded Bob, appearing from the 
Tank. "It shall not be repeated. I was making rather merry 
yesterday, sir. ' ' 

"Now, I'll tell you what, my friend," said Scrooge, "I am not 



244 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

going to stand this sort of thing any longer. And therefore, ' ' he 
continued, leaping from his stool, and giving Bob such a dig in 
the waistcoat that he staggered back into the Tank again, "and 
therefore I am about to raise your salary ! ' ' 

Bob trembled, and got a little nearer to the ruler. He had a 
momentary idea of knocking Scrooge down with it, holding him, 
and calling to the people in the court for help and a strait waist- 
coat. 

"A Merry Christmas, Bob !" said Scrooge, with an earnestness 
that could not be mistaken, as he clapped him on the back. "A 
merrier Christmas, Bob, my good fellow, than I have given you 
for many a year ! I '11 raise your salary, and endeavor to assist 
your struggling family ; and we will discuss your affairs this very 
afternoon, over a Christmas bowl of smoking bishop, Bob ! Make 
up the fires, and buy another coal scuttle before you dot another 
i, Bob Cratchit!" 

Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely 
more ; and to Tiny Tim, who did not die, he was a second father. 
He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a 
man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, 
or borough, in the good old world. Some people laughed to see 
the alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded 
them; for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever hap- 
pened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have 
their fill of laughter at the outset; and knowing that such as 
these would be blind anyway, he thought it quite as well that they 
should wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as have the malady in less 
attractive forms. His own heart laughed; and that was quite 
enough for him. 

He had no further intercourse with Spirits, but lived upon the 
Total Abstinence Principle, ever afterwards ; and it was always 
said of him that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man 
alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and 
all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God Bless Us, Every 
One! 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 245 



Notes and Questions 

Charles Dickens was a great English novelist. In his story David 
Copperfield he has given us a picture of a miserable, neglected boy, 
and we are told that he took these incidents from his own childhood. He 
had very little education, but by means of his ambition and his natural 
ability to write, he gained a place as a reporter on a London newspaper. 
People soon learned to look for his sketches, signed "Boz." Before he 
was thirty, he was the most popular writer in England. He wrote about 
the poor and unfortunate in prisons, workhouses, and the slums of 
London. He attacked some of the schools for the poor children of 
England in which the pupils were not well treated. He opened the eyes 
of the people to the cruelty and stupidity from which the poor often 
suffered. He saw, also, like Robert Burns, the sincerity and simple 
happiness that often make the poor more to be envied than the rich. 

No other novelist has invented so many characters that seem flesh 
and blood; they appeal to us because they are "folks," not imaginary 
dwellers in an unreal world. 

Dickens made two visits to America, where he was received with great 
enthusiasm, notwithstanding the fact that in one of his books he de- 
scribed some Americans of whom we could not be proud. 

It has been said that if you would appreciate and enjoy to the full 
the peculiar interest and charm of the Dickens stories, you must read 
them while you are young. 

Read the story through silently. (There are approximately 28,450 
words in the story; if you time your reading, you can easily figure 
your silent reading rate. ) For testing your understanding of the story, 
you may use, as an outline, the scenes in the dramatization on page 249, 
or you may make an outline, using the subtitles of the five Staves as 
topics. An interesting exercise is to divide the class into five groups, 
and assign to each group one Stave of the story. Each group will then 
prepare an outline and select one of its members to tell the substance 
of the Stave to the class, following the outline. 

Stave One. Marley's Ghost. 1. Tell what you learned about Scrooge's 
character from : 

(a) the author's description of him. 

(b) his conversation with his nephew. 



246 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

(c) his conversation with the two gentlemen asking for a con- 
tribution. 

(d) his treatment of the carol singer. 

(e) his treatment of his clerk. 

2. It is interesting to notice how Dickens prepares the reader, step 
by step, for the appearance of Marley's Ghost by: 

(a) the repetition in the beginning of "Marley was dead." 

(b) Scrooge's answer to the gentleman's question, "Have I the 
pleasure of addressing Mr. Scrooge or Mr. Marley?" 

(c) the knocker incident. 

(d) the pictures on the tiles. 

Find the passage in each case, and discuss the author's method with 
your classmates. What fact in Scrooge's answer to the gentleman is 
especially significant ? What do the incidents (c) and (d) tell us about 
Scrooge's state of mind? 

3. Show how the descriptions of the weather, the house, the rooms, 
Scrooge's actions, the bell, all combine to make a proper setting for 
the Ghost's appearance. What was the purpose of the Ghost's visit ? In 
the story the Ghost is called a shade; try to find four other words used 
for "Ghost." 

4. You may enjoy reading aloud the lines that describe : 

(a) Scrooge, pages 160-161. 

(b) The nephew defending Christmas, pages 163-164. 

(c) The clerk sliding down hill, page 168. 

(d) Marley and Scrooge, pages 172-178. 

Stave Two. The First of the Three Spirits. 1. Describe the Ghost of 
Christmas Past. What did the Ghost say was its business in visiting 
Scrooge? What did Christmas Past first show Scrooge? How soon 
did Scrooge show that he was affected by what he saw? 

2. What stories was the boy, Ebenezer Scrooge, reading? How do 
you know? Do you think Scrooge's childhood had been a happy one? 
Give reasons for your answer. 

3. The Ghost shows him scenes that make Scrooge realize his mean 
treatment of his nephew, his clerk, and the carol singer. You may com- 
plete these statements: 

(a) The vision of himself as a boy made Scrooge think of . 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 247 
(b) By the vision of his little sister he was reminded of . 



(c) The happy Christmas Eve at Fezziwigs' made him wish he 
might speak to . 

4. The Ghost of Christmas Past showed Scrooge four Christmas Eves 
in his past life. Where were they each spent ? Which of them made him 
feel most keenly what he had missed in life? What is your feeling 
toward Scrooge when he was a schoolboy? An apprentice? A man in 
the prime of life? 

5. You may like to read aloud lines that describe : 

(a) The Spirit of Christmas Past, pages 180-181. 

(b) The scene at the Fezziwigs' ball, pages 188-191. 

(c) Scrooge and his former sweetheart, pages 192-194. 

Stave Three. The Second of the Three Spirits. 1. Notice how 
throughout the Stave the Spirit of Christmas Present brings with it 
blessings — joy and good will and plenty. What does it do to Scrooge's 
room ? Why do you think Dickens described in such detail the fruiterers' 
and grocers' shops? Give an instance in which the Spirit changes 
quarrelsomeness to good nature. Find the paragraph on page 220 that 
sums up very well the effect the Spirit has upon those whom it visits. 

2. What was the Spirit's object in taking Scrooge to the miners on 
the desert moor, to the lighthouse on the rocks, and to the ship at sea? 
What other places did they visit? Where did they make the longest 
stay? Which of these visits did you enjoy most? What feelings were 
awakened in Scrooge by these sights? 

3. Select passages that made you smile as you read them. Give 
instances which show that the Cratchits were a contented family and 
pleased with each other. Find two instances in which the Spirit turned 
upon Scrooge with his own words. 

4. You may enjoy reading aloud lines that describe : 

(a) Christmas Day at the Cratchits' home, pages 204-211. 

(b) The party at the home of Scrooge's nephew, pages 214r-219. 

Stave Four. The Last of the Spirits. 1. Describe the appearance of 
the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come. Notice that it never speaks, 
only points. What effect does this have upon Scrooge and upon the 
reader as well? 



248 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

2. The Phantom lets Scrooge know about his death and how people 
feel about it by taking him to different scenes and by letting him over- 
hear conversations: 

(a) The conversation of the merchants and of important busi- 
ness men 

(b) The conversation of the charwoman, the laundress, and the 
undertaker in old Joe's shop 

(c) The scene showing his own room and the bed 

(d) The scene at the home of a creditor 

(e) The scene at the Cratchit's 

(/) The scene showing his office with all the furniture changed 

and a strange figure in his chair 
(g) The scene in the churchyard 
At which place do you think Scrooge began to realize that he was the 
man under discussion f What incident shows that he shrinks from being 
convinced that he really is the man? 

3. The Phantom shows Scrooge two scenes, one where there is pleasure 
and the other where there is tenderness connected with death. Where 
were these contrasting scenes ? 

4. Why is Scrooge so eager to know whether all the scenes the Phan- 
tom has shown him are shadows of things that Will be or that May be? 
Find the paragraph that tells of Scrooge's determination to honor 
Christmas and to keep it all the year. 

Stave Five. The End of It. 1. What did Scrooge do to make sure 
he was alive? What tells you that he had really suffered in the night? 
How did he express his joy at being alive f 

2. Who received his first attention? How do you account for the 
"wonderful happiness" at his nephew's? Find the paragraph that 
makes you feel the change in Scrooge is real and complete. 

The Story as a Whole 

1. Dickens called this story "A Christmas carol in prose." How does 
its message compare with that of the first Christmas carol, "Peace on 
earth, good will toward men"? Why did Dickens divide the story into 
staves instead of chapters? What is the "theme" or central idea of the 
carol? 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 249 

2. Dickens was interested in conditions under which people worked. 
In your study of civics you have learned of laws which your state has 
enacted for the improvement of working conditions in industry; a 
volunteer may make a report of these to the class. 

3. Reading a story such as this one offers an opportunity for increas- 
ing your vocabulary. Make a list of ten words that you looked up in 
the Glossary. It is said that after using a word three times, it becomes 
one's own. Are there any words from this story that you may call your 
own? 

4. Cruikshank's illustrations of Dickens's characters are famous; 
perhaps a volunteer can bring to class some of his illustrations. You 
will enjoy the pictures by Arthur Rackham illustrating A Christmas 
Carol. 

Other books that you may like to read are : Ten Boys from Dickens, 
Sweetser; Ten Girls from Dickens, Sweetser; Short Plays from Dickens, 
Browne; "The Greatest Little Book in the World," Newton (in The 
Greatest Book in the World); The First Christmas-Tree, van Dyke. 

A Dramatization 

The class members may wish to dramatize A Christmas Carol for the 
school's Christmas program. The conversation in the story will furnish 
ideas for the dialogue. To keep the flavor of the carol, it will be well 
to use the words of Dickens whenever possible. The descriptions, as well 
as the story itself, and the illustrations offer suggestions both for cos- 
tumes and for acting. The different scenes indicated below may be 
assigned to groups and worked out independently of each other. This 
plan affords a large number of pupils an opportunity to take part and 
reduces the work and responsibility. The enjoyment and the advantages 
gained will be worth the effort even if the dramatization is not a finished 
one. 

Act I 

Scrooge on Christmas Eve. 

Scene 1. In Scrooge's countinghouse. A visit from the nephew. 
(See the picture on page 162.) 

Scene 2. In Scrooge's room. Appearance of Marley's ghost. (See 
the picture on page 172.) 



250 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 



Act II 

The Spirit of Christmas Past, showing Scrooge "shadows of the 
things that have been." 

Scene 1. The school of Scrooge's childhood. (See the picture on 
page 184.) 

Scene 2. Christmas at the Fezziwigs'. (See the picture on page 191.) 

Act III 

The Spirit of Christmas Present, showing Scrooge the universal 
happiness at Christmas-time. 

Scene 1. Christmas at Bob Cratchit's. (See the picture on page 
206.) 

Scene 2. Christmas at the nephew's. (See the picture on page 219.) 

Act IV 

The Spirit of Christmas Yet To Come, showing Scrooge the effect 
his death has upon those who knew him. 
Scene 1. In Joe's shop. 
Scene 2. In the churchyard. 

Act V 

Scrooge awakes transformed on Christmas morning. 
Scene 1. In his room giving orders for Christmas cheer. 
Scene 2. At his nephew's. (See the picture on page 242.) 
Scene 3. Next morning at the countinghouse. 



AS YOU LIKE IT 

Charles and Mary Lamb 

In his delightful comedy, As You Like It, Shakespeare tells the story 
of a banished duke and his life in the forest of Arden. The duke's 
daughter, Rosalind, one of Shakespeare's loveliest heroines, dresses as a 
shepherd boy and brings confusion to her father and to her lover, but in 
the end everything turns out exactly "as you like it." Charles and Mary 
Lamb, two hundred years later, wrote the story in simple prose form in 
their Tales from Shakespeare. 

During the time that France was divided into provinces, or 
dukedoms, as they were called, there reigned in one of these prov- 
inces a usurper, who had deposed and banished his elder brother, 
the lawful duke. 

The duke, who was thus driven from his dominions, retired 
with a few faithful followers to the forest of Arden ; and here the 
good duke lived with his loving friends, who had put themselves 
into a voluntary exile for his sake, while their land and revenues 
enriched the false usurper; and custom soon made the life of 
careless ease they led here more sweet to them than the pomp and 
uneasy splendor of a courtier's life. Here they lived like the 
old Robin Hood of England, and to this forest many noble 
youths daily resorted from the court. In the summer they lay 
along under the fine shade of the large forest trees, marking the 
playful sports of the wild deer ; and it grieved them to be forced to 
kill them to supply themselves with venison for their food. When 
the cold winds of winter made the duke feel the change of his 
adverse fortune, he would endure it patiently, and say, " These 
chilling winds which blow upon my body do not flatter, but rep- 
resent truly to me my condition; and though they bite sharply, 
their tooth is nothing like so keen as that of unkindness and in- 
gratitude. ' ' In this manner did the patient duke draw a useful 

251 



252 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

moral from everything that he saw; and by the help of this 
moralizing turn, in that life of his, remote from public haunts, 
he could find tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, ser- 
mons in stones, and good in everything. 

The banished duke had an only daughter, named Rosalind, 
whom the usurper, Duke Frederick, when he banished her father, 
still retained in his court as a companion for his own daughter 
Celia. A strict friendship subsisted between these ladies, 
which the disagreement between their fathers did not in 
the least interrupt, Celia striving by every kindness in her 
power to make amends to Rosalind for the injustice of her own 
father in deposing the father of Rosalind; and whenever the 
thoughts of her father 's banishment and her own dependence on 
the false usurper made Rosalind melancholy, Celia 's whole care 
was to comfort and console her. 

One day, when Celia was talking in her usual kind manner to 
Rosalind, saying, "I pray you, Rosalind, my sweet cousin, be 
merry, ' ' a messenger entered from the duke, to tell them that if 
they wished to see a wrestling match, which was just going to 
begin, they must come instantly to the court before the palace; 
and Celia, thinking it would amuse Rosalind, agreed to go and 
see it. 

In those times wrestling was a favorite sport, even in the 
courts of princes and before fair ladies and princesses. To this 
wrestling match, therefore, Celia and Rosalind went. They 
found that it was likely to prove a very tragical sight ; for a large 
and powerful man, who had been long practiced in the art of 
wrestling and had slain many men in contests of this kind, was 
just going to wrestle with a very young man, who, from his 
extreme youth and inexperience in the art, the beholders all 
thought would certainly be killed. 

When the duke saw Celia and Rosalind, he said, "How now, 
daughter and niece, are you crept hither to see the wrestling? 
You will take little delight in it, there is such odds in the men ; 
in pity to this young man, I would wish to persuade him from 
wrestling. Speak to him, ladies, and see if you cannot move him. ' ' 



AS YOU LIKE IT 253 

The ladies were well pleased to perform this humane office, and 
first Celia entreated the young stranger that he would desist from 
the attempt ; and then Rosalind spoke so kindly to him, and with 
such consideration for the danger he was about to undergo, that 
instead of being persuaded by her gentle words to forego his pur- 
pose, all his thoughts were bent to distinguish himself by his 
courage in this lovely lady's eyes. He refused the request of 
Celia and Rosalind in such graceful and modest words that they 
felt still more concern for him; he concluded his refusal with 
saying, "I am sorry to deny such fair and excellent ladies any- 
thing. But let your fair eyes and gentle wishes go with me to 
my trial, wherein if I am killed, there is one dead that is willing 
to die ; I shall do my friends no wrong, for I have none to lament 
me ; I only fill up a place in the world which may be better sup- 
plied when I have made it empty." 

And now the wrestling match began. Celia wished the young 
stranger might not be hurt ; but Rosalind felt most for him. The 
friendless state which he said he was in, and that he wished to 
die, made Rosalind think that he was, like herself, unfortunate ; 
and she pitied him so much, and so deep an interest she took in 
his danger while he was wrestling, that she might almost be said 
at that moment to have fallen in love with him. 

The kindness shown this unknown youth by these fair and 
noble ladies gave him courage and strength, so that he performed 
wonders; and in the end completely conquered his antagonist, 
who was so much hurt that for a while he was unable to speak or 
move. 

The Duke Frederick was much pleased with the courage and 
skill shown by this young stranger, and desired to know his 
name and parentage, meaning to take him under his protection. 

The stranger said his name was Orlando, and that he was the 
youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys. 

Sir Rowland de Boys, the father of Orlando, had been dead 
some years; but when he was living, he had been a true subject 
and dear friend of the banished duke ; therefore, when Frederick 
heard Orlando was the son of his banished brother's friend, all 



254 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

his liking for this brave young man was changed into displeasure, 
and he left the place in very ill humor. 

Rosalind was delighted to hear that her new favorite was the 
son of her father's old friend. The ladies went up to him, and 
seeing him abashed by the sudden displeasure shown by the 
duke, they spoke kind and encouraging words to him ; and Rosa- 
lind, when they were going away, turned back to speak some 
more civil things to the brave young son of her father's old 
friend ; and taking a chain from her neck, she said, ' ' Gentleman, 
wear this for me. I am out of suits with fortune, or I would give 
you a more valuable present.' ' 

When the ladies were alone, Rosalind's talk being still of Or- 
lando, Celia began to perceive her cousin had fallen in love with 
the handsome young wrestler, and she said to Rosalind, "Is it 
possible you should fall in love so suddenly ? ' ' Rosalind replied, 
"The duke, my father, loved his father dearly." "But," said 
Celia, "does it therefore follow that you should love his son 
dearly? for then I ought to hate him, for my father hated his 
father; yet I do not hate Orlando." 

Frederick being enraged at the sight of Sir Rowland de Boys 's 
son, who reminded him of the many friends the banished duke 
had among the nobility, and having been for some time displeased 
with his niece because the people praised her for her virtues and 
pitied her for her good father's sake, his malice suddenly broke 
out against her; and while Celia and Rosalind were talking of 
Orlando, Frederick entered the room and, with looks full of 
anger, ordered Rosalind instantly to leave the palace and follow 
her father into banishment, telling Celia, who in vain pleaded for 
her, that he had only suffered Rosalind to stay upon her account. 
1 ' 1 did not then, ' ' said Celia, ' ' entreat you to let her stay, for I 
was too young at that time to value her; but now that I know 
her worth, and that we so long have slept together, risen at the 
same instant, learned, played, and eaten together, I cannot live 
out of her company. ' ' Frederick replied, ' ' She is too subtle for 
you ; her smoothness, her very silence, and her patience speak to 
the people, and they pity her. You are a fool to plead for her, for 



AS YOU LIKE IT 255 

you will seem more bright and virtuous when she is gone ; there- 
fore open not your lips in her favor, for the doom which I have 
passed upon her is irrevocable." 

"When Celia found she could not prevail upon her father to let 
Rosalind remain with her, she generously resolved to accompany 
her; and leaving her father's palace that night, she went along 
with her friend to seek Rosalind's father, the banished duke, in 
the forest of Arden. 

Before they set out, Celia considered that it would be unsafe 
for two young ladies to travel in the rich clothes they then wore ; 
she therefore proposed that they should disguise their rank by 
dressing themselves like country maids. Rosalind said it would 
be a still greater protection if one of them dressed like a man; 
and so it was quickly agreed between them, that, as Rosalind was 
the taller, she would wear the dress of a young countryman, and 
Celia should be habited like a country lass, and that they should 
say they were brother and sister. Rosalind said she would be 
called Ganymede, and Celia chose the name of Aliena. 

In this disguise, and taking their money and jewels to defray 
their expenses, these fair princesses set out on their long travel ; 
for the forest of Arden was a long way off, beyond the boundaries 
of the duke 's dominions. 

The lady Rosalind (or Ganymede as she must now be called) 
with her manly garb seemed to have put on a manly courage. The 
faithful friendship Celia had shown in accompanying Rosalind 
so many weary miles made the new brother, in recompense for 
this true love, exert a cheerful spirit, as if he were indeed Gany- 
mede, the rustic and stout-hearted brother of the gentle village 
maiden, Aliena. 

When at last they came to the forest of Arden, they no longer 
found the convenient inns and good accommodations they had 
met with on the road ; and being in want of food and rest, Gany- 
mede, who had so merrily cheered his sister with pleasant 
speeches and happy remarks all the way, now owned to Aliena 
that he was so weary he could find it in his heart to disgrace his 
man's apparel, and cry like a woman. And Aliena declared she 



256 



ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 




could go no farther ; and then again Ganymede tried to recollect 
that it was a man's duty to comfort and console a woman; and 
to seem courageous to his new sister, he said, "Come, have a good 
heart, my sister Aliena ; we are now at the end of our travel, in 
the forest of Arden. ' ' Though they were in the forest of Arden, 
they knew not where to find the duke ; and here the travel of these 
weary ladies might have come to a sad conclusion, for they might 
have lost themselves and perished for want of food ; but, as they 
were sitting on the grass, almost dying with fatigue and hopeless 
of any relief, a countryman chanced to pass that way, and Gany- 
mede once more tried to speak with a manly boldness, saying, 
"Shepherd, I pray you bring us where we may rest ourselves; 
for this young maid, my sister, is much fatigued with traveling, 
and faints for want of food." 

The man replied that he was only a servant to a shepherd, 
and that his master's house was just going to be sold, and there- 
fore they would find but poor entertainment ; but that if they 
would go with him, they should be welcome to what there was. 



AS YOU LIKE IT 257 

They followed the man, the near prospect of relief giving them 
fresh strength ; and bought the house and sheep of the shepherd, 
and took the man who conducted them to the shepherd 's house to 
wait on them ; and being by this means so fortunately provided 
with a neat cottage and well supplied with provisions, they 
agreed to stay here till they could learn in what part of the 
forest the duke dwelt. 

When they were rested after the fatigue of their journey, they 
began to like their new way of life, and almost fancied them- 
selves the shepherd and shepherdess they feigned to be ; yet some- 
times Ganymede remembered he had once been the same lady 
Rosalind who had so dearly loved the brave Orlando because he 
was the son of old Sir Rowland, her father 's friend ; and though 
Ganymede thought that Orlando was many miles distant, even so 
many weary miles as they had traveled, yet it soon appeared that 
Orlando was also in the forest of Arden; and in this manner 
this strange event came to pass. 

Orlando was the youngest son of Sir Rowland de Boys, who, 
when he died, left him (Orlando being then very young) to the 
care of his eldest brother, Oliver, charging Oliver on his blessing 
to give his brother a good education and provide for him as be- 
came the dignity of their ancient house. Oliver proved an un- 
worthy brother; and disregarding the commands of his dying 
father, he never put his brother to school, but kept him at home 
untaught and entirely neglected. But in his nature and in the 
noble qualities of his mind Orlando so much resembled his ex- 
cellent father that,, without any advantages of education, he 
seemed like a youth who had been bred with the utmost care ; and 
Oliver so envied the fine person and dignified manners of his un- 
tutored brother that at last he wished to destroy him; and to 
effect this he set on people to persuade him to wrestle with the 
famous wrestler, who, as has been before related, had killed so 
many men. Now, it was this cruel brother 's neglect of him which 
made Orlando say he wished to die, being so friendless. 

When, contrary to the wicked hopes he had formed, his brother 
proved victorious, his envy and malice knew no bounds; and he 



258 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

swore he would burn the chamber where Orlando slept. He was 
overheard making this vow by one that had been an old and 
faithful servant to their father. This old man went out to meet 
him when he returned from the duke's palace, and when he saw 
Orlando, the peril his dear young master was in made him break 
out into these passionate exclamations : " my gentle master, 
my sweet master, you memory of old Sir Rowland! why are 
you virtuous ? why are you gentle, strong, and valiant ? and why 
would you overcome the famous wrestler? Your praise is come 
too swiftly home before you. ' ' Orlando, wondering what all this 
meant, asked him what was the matter. And then the old man 
told him how his wicked brother, envying the love all people 
bore him, and now hearing the fame he had gained by his victory 
in the duke 's palace, intended to destroy him by setting fire to his 
chamber that night; and, in conclusion, advised him to escape 
the danger he was in by instant flight. Knowing Orlando had no 
money, Adam (for that was the good old man's name) had 
brought out with him his own little hoard, and he said, "I have 
five hundred crowns, the thrifty hire I saved under your father, 
and laid by for me when my old limbs should become unfit for 
service ; take that, and he that doth the ravens feed be comfort 
to my age! Here is the gold; all this I give to you; let me be 
your servant ; though I look old, I will do the service of a younger 
man in all your business." "0 good old man!" said Orlando, 
' ' we will go along together, and before your youthful wages are 
spent, I shall light upon some means for both our maintenance. ' ' 
Together then this faithful servant and his loved master set 
out ; and Orlando and Adam traveled on, uncertain what course 
to pursue, till they came to the forest of Arden, and there they 
found themselves in the same distress for want of food in which 
Ganymede and Aliena had been. They wandered on, seeking 
some human habitation, till they were almost spent with hunger 
and fatigue. Adam at last said, "0 my dear master, I die for 
want of food ; I can go no farther ! " He then laid himself down, 
thinking to make that place his grave, and bade his dear master 
farewell. Orlando, seeing him in this weak state, took his old 



AS YOU LIKE IT 259 

servant up in his arms and carried him under the shelter of some 
pleasant trees; and he said to him, "Cheerly, old Adam, rest 
your weary limbs here awhile and do not talk of dying ! ' ' 

Orlando then searched about to find some food, and happened 
to arrive at that part of the forest where the duke was. He and 
his friends were just going to eat their dinner, this royal duke 
being seated on the grass, under no other canopy than the shady 
covert of some large trees. 

Orlando, whom hunger had made desperate, drew his sword, 
intending to take their meat by force, and said,. "Forbear and 
eat no more; I must have your food!" The duke asked him if 
distress had made him so bold, or if he were a rude despiser of 
good manners. On this Orlando said he was dying with hunger ; 
and then the duke told him he was welcome to sit down and eat 
with them. Orlando, hearing him speak so gently, put up his 
sword, and blushed with shame at the rude manner in which he 
had demanded their food. "Pardon me, I pray you/' said he; 
' ' I thought that all things had been savage here, and therefore I 
put on the countenance of stern command; but whatever men 
you are, if ever you have looked on better days, if ever you have 
been where bells have knolled to church, if you have ever sat at 
any good man's feast, if ever from your eyelids you have wiped 
a tear, and know what it is to pity or be pitied, may gentle 
speeches now move you to do me human courtesy!" The duke 
replied, "True it is that we are men (as you say) who have seen 
better days, and though we have now our habitation in this wild 
forest, we have lived in towns and cities, and have with holy bell 
been knolled to church, have sat at good men's feasts, and from 
our eyes have wiped the drops which sacred pity has engendered ; 
therefore sit you down, and take of our refreshments as much as 
will minister to your wants. " " There is an old poor man, ' ' an- 
swered Orlando, ' ' who has limped after me many a weary step in 
pure love ; till he be satisfied, I must not touch a bit. " " Go, find 
him out, and bring him hither, ' ' said the duke ; " we will forbear 
to eat till you return. ' ' Then Orlando went like a doe to find its 
fawn and give it food ; and presently returned, bringing Adam in 



260 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

his arms ; and the duke said, ' ' Set down your venerable burden ; 
you are both welcome ' ' ; and they fed the old man and cheered 
his heart, and he revived, and recovered his health and strength 
again. 

The duke inquired who Orlando was, and when he found that 
he was the son of his old friend, Sir Rowland de Boys, he took 
him under his protection ; and Orlando and his old servant lived 
with the duke in the forest. 

Orlando arrived in the forest not many days after Ganymede 
and Aliena came there and (as has been before related) bought 
the shepherd's cottage. 

Ganymede and Aliena were strangely surprised to find the 
name of Rosalind carved on the trees, and love-sonnets, fastened 
to them, all addressed to Rosalind; and while they were wonder- 
ing how this could be, they met Orlando, and they perceived the 
^hain which Rosalind had given him about his neck. 

Orlando little thought that Ganymede was the fair princess 
Rosalind, who had so won his heart that he passed his whole time 
in carving her name upon the trees and writing sonnets in praise 
of her beauty ; but being much pleased with the graceful air of 
this pretty shepherd-youth, he entered into conversation with 
him. He thought he saw a likeness in Ganymede to his beloved 
Rosalind. Ganymede assumed the forward manners often seen 
in youths when they are between boys and men, and with much 
archness and humor talked to Orlando of a certain lover, ' ' who, ' ' 
said he, ' ' haunts our forest and spoils our young trees with carv- 
ing 'Rosalind' upon their barks; and he hangs odes upon haw- 
thorns, all praising this same Rosalind. If I could find this lover, 
I would give him some good counsel that would soon cure him 
of his love." 

Orlando confessed that he was the fond lover, and asked Gany- 
mede to give him the good counsel he talked of. The remedy 
Ganymede proposed, and the counsel he gave him, was that 
Orlando should come every day to the cottage where he and his 
sister Aliena dwelt. ' ' And then, ' ' said Ganymede, ' ' I will feign 
myself to be Rosalind, and you shall feign to court me in the 



AS YOU LIKE IT 261 

same manner as you would do if I was Rosalind, and then I will 
imitate the fantastic ways of whimsical ladies to their lovers till 
I make you ashamed of your love ; and this is the way I propose 
to cure you. ' ' Orlando had no great faith in the remedy, yet he 
agreed to come every day to Ganymede's cottage and feign a 
playful courtship. Every day Orlando visited Ganymede and 
Aliena, and Orlando called the shepherd Ganymede his Rosalind, 
and every day talked OA T er all the fine words and flattering com- 
pliments which young men delight to use when they court their 
mistresses. It does not appear, however, that Ganymede made 
any progress in curing Orlando of his love for Rosalind. 

Though Orlando thought all this was but a sportive play (not 
dreaming that Ganymede was his very Rosalind), yet the oppor- 
tunity it gave him of saying all the fond things he had in his 
heart pleased his fancy almost as well as it did Ganymede's, who 
enjoyed the secret jest in knowing these fine love-speeches were 
all addressed to the right person. 

In this manner many days passed pleasantly on with these 
young people ; and the good-natured Aliena, seeing it made Gany- 
mede happy, let him have his own way, and was diverted at the 
mock-courtship, and did not care to remind Ganymede that the 
lady Rosalind had not yet made herself known to the duke her 
father, whose place of resort in the forest they had learned from 
Orlando. Ganymede met the duke one day, and had some talk 
with him, and the duke asked of what parentage he came. Gany- 
mede answered that he came of as good parentage as he did, 
which made the duke smile, for he did not suspect the pretty 
shepherd boy came of royal lineage. Then seeing the duke look 
well and happy, Ganymede was content to put off all further 
explanation for a few days longer. 

One morning, as Orlando was going to visit Ganymede, he saw a 
man, lying asleep on the ground, around whose neck a large green 
snake had twisted itself. The snake, seeing Orlando approach, 
glided away among the bushes. Orlando went nearer, and 
then he discovered a lioness crouching, with her head on the 
ground, with a cat-like watch, waiting until the sleeping man 



262 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

awaked (for it is said that lions will prey on nothing that is 
dead or sleeping). It seemed as if Orlando was sent by Provi- 
dence to free the man from the danger of the snake and lioness ; 
but when Orlando looked in the man's face, he perceived that 
the sleeper was his own brother Oliver, who had so cruelly used 
him and had threatened to destroy him by fire. He was almost 
tempted to leave him a prey to the hungry lioness, but brotherly 
affection and the gentleness of his nature soon overcame his first 
anger against his brother ; and he drew his sword, and attacked 
the lioness, and slew her, and thus preserved his brother 's life ; 
but before Orlando could conquer the lioness, she had torn one 
of his arms with her sharp claws. 

While Orlando was engaged with the lioness, Oliver awaked, 
and perceiving that his brother Orlando, whom he had so cruelly 
treated, was saving him from the fury of a wild beast at the risk 
of his own life, shame and remorse at once seized him, and he re- 
pented of his unworthy conduct, and besought with many tears 
his brother's pardon for the injuries he had done him. Orlando 
rejoiced to see him so penitent, and readily forgave him; they 
embraced each other; and from that hour Oliver loved Orlando 
with a true brotherly affection, though he had come to the forest 
bent on his destruction. 

The wound in Orlando 's arm having bled very much, he found 
himself too weak to go to visit Ganymede, and therefore he de- 
sired his brother to go and tell Ganymede, "whom," said Or- 
lando, " I in sport do call my Rosalind, ' ' the accident which had 
befallen him. 

Thither then Oliver went, and told to Ganymede and Aliena 
how Orlando had saved his life; and when he had finished the 
story of Orlando's bravery and his own escape, he owned to 
them that he was Orlando's brother, who had so cruelly used 
him ; and then he told them of their reconciliation. 

The sincere sorrow that Oliver expressed for his offenses made 
such a lively impression on the kind heart of Aliena that she 
instantly fell in love with him ; and Oliver, observing how much 



AS YOU LIKE IT 263 

she pitied the distress he told her he felt for his fault, he as sud- 
denly fell in love with her. But while love was thus stealing 
into the hearts of Aliena and Oliver, he was no less busy with 
Ganymede, who, hearing of the danger Orlando had been in, and 
that he was wounded by the lioness, fainted; and when he re- 
covered, he pretended that he had counterfeited the swoon in the 
imaginary character of Rosalind, and Ganymede said to Oliver, 
''Tell your brother Orlando how well I counterfeited a swoon/' 
But Oliver saw by the paleness of his complexion that he did 
really faint, and much wondering at the weakness of the young 
man, he said, "Well, if you did counterfeit, take a good heart, 
and counterfeit to be a man." "So I do," replied Ganymede, 
truly, "but I should have been a woman by right." 

Oliver made this visit a very long one, and when at last he 
returned to his brother, he had much news to tell him ; for besides 
the account of Ganymede's fainting at the hearing that Orlando 
was wounded, Oliver told him how he had fallen in love with the 
fair shepherdess Aliena, and that she had lent a favorable ear 
to his suit, even in this their first interview. He talked to his 
brother, as of a thing almost settled, that he should marry Aliena, 
saying that he so well loved her that he would live here as a 
shepherd, and settle his estate and house at home upon Orlando. 

"You have my consent," said Orlando. "Let your wedding 
be tomorrow, and I will invite the duke and his friends. Go and 
persuade your shepherdess to agree to this; she is now alone ; 
for look, here comes her brother." Oliver went to Aliena; and 
Ganymede, whom Orlando had perceived approaching, came to 
inquire after the health of his wounded friend. 

When Orlando and Ganymede began to talk over the sudden 
love which had taken place between Oliver and Aliena, Orlando 
said he had advised his brother to persuade his fair shepherdess 
to be married on the morrow, and then he added how much he 
could wish to be married on the same day to his Rosalind. 

Ganymede, who well approved of this arrangement, said that 
if Orlando really loved Rosalind as well as he professed to do, he 



264 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

should have his wish; for on the morrow he would engage to 
make Rosalind appear in her own person, and also that Rosalind 
should be willing to marry Orlando. 

This seemingly wonderful event, which, as Ganymede was the 
lady Rosalind, he could so easily perform, he pretended he would 
bring to pass by the aid of magic, which he said he had learned 
of an uncle who was a famous magician. 

The fond lover Orlando, half believing and half doubting what 
he heard, asked Ganymede if he spoke in sober meaning. "By 
my life I do," said Ganymede; "therefore put on your best 
clothes, and bid the duke and your friends to your wedding ; for 
if you desire to be married tomorrow to Rosalind, she shall be 
here." 

The next morning, Oliver having obtained the consent of 
Aliena, they came into the presence of the duke, and with them 
also came Orlando. 

They being all assembled to celebrate this double marriage, 
and as yet only one of the brides appearing, there was much of 
wondering, but they mostly thought that Ganymede was making 
a jest of Orlando. 

The duke, hearing that it was his own daughter that was to 
be brought in this strange way, asked Orlando if he believed 
the shepherd-boy could really do what he had promised; and 
while Orlando was answering that he knew not what to think, 
Ganymede entered, and asked the duke, if he brought his daugh- 
ter, whether he would consent to her marriage with Orlando. 
' • That I would, ' ' said the duke, " if I had kingdoms to give with 
her. ' ' Ganymede then said to Orlando, ' ' And you say you will 
marry her if I bring her here V " That I would, ' ' said Orlando, 
' 'if I were king of many kingdoms. ' ' 

Ganymede and Aliena then went out together, and Ganymede, 
throwing off his male attire and being once more dressed in 
woman's apparel, quickly became Rosalind without the power 
of magic; and Aliena, changing her country garb for her own 
rich clothes, was with as little trouble transformed into the 
lady Celia. 



AS YOU LIKE IT 



265 




While they were gone, the duke said to Orlando that he 
thought the shepherd Ganymede very like his daughter Rosalind ; 
and Orlando said that he also had observed the resemblance. 

They had no time to wonder how all this would end, for Rosa- 
lind and Celia in their own clothes entered ; and no longer pre- 
tending that it was by the power of magic that she came there, 
Rosalind threw herself on her knees before her father, and 
begged his blessing. It seemed so wonderful to all present that 
she should so suddenly appear that it might well have passed 
for magic; but Rosalind would no longer trifle with her father, 
and told him the story of her banishment and of her dwelling 
in the forest as a shepherd-boy, Celia passing as her sister. 

The duke ratified the consent he had already given to the 
marriage; and Orlando and Rosalind, Oliver and Celia, were 
married at the same time. And though their wedding could 
not be celebrated in this wild forest with any of the parade or 
splendor usual on such occasions, yet a happier wedding-day was 
never passed ; and while they were eating their venison under the 



266 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

cool shade of the pleasant trees, as if nothing should be wanting 
to complete the felicity of this good duke and the true lovers, 
an unexpected messenger arrived to tell the duke the joyful news 
that his dukedom was restored to him. 

The usurper, enraged at the flight of his daughter Celia, and 
hearing that every day men of great worth resorted to the forest 
of Arden to join the lawful duke in his exile, much envying that 
his brother should be so highly respected in his adversity, put 
himself at the head of a large force and advanced toward the 
forest, intending to seize his brother and put him with all his 
faithful followers to the sword. But, by a wonderful interposi- 
tion of Providence, this bad brother was converted from his evil 
intention ; for just as he entered the skirts of the wild forest, he 
was met by an old religious man, a hermit, with whom he had 
much talk, and who in the end completely turned his heart from 
his wicked design. 

Thenceforward he became a true penitent, and resolved to 
spend the remainder of his days in a religious house. The first 
act of his penitence was to send a messenger to his brother (as 
has been related) to offer to restore to him his dukedom, which 
he had usurped so long, and with it the lands and revenues 
of his friends, the faithful followers of his adversity. 

This joyful news, as unexpected as it was welcome, came 
opportunely to heighten the festivity and rejoicings at the wed- 
ding of the princesses. Celia complimented her cousin on this 
good fortune which had happened to the duke, Rosalind 's father, 
and wished her joy very sincerely, though she herself was no 
longer heir to the dukedom, but by this restoration which her 
father had made, Rosalind was now the heir ; so completely was 
the love of these two cousins unmixed with anything of jealousy 
or of envy. 

The duke had now an opportunity of rewarding those true 
friends who had stayed with him in his banishment; and these 
worthy followers, though they had patiently shared his adverse 
fortune, were very well pleased to return in peace and prosperity 
to the palace of their lawful duke. 



AS YOU LIKE IT 267 

Notes and Questions 

William Shakespeare is England's greatest poet and playwright. He 
is one of the greatest poets the world has ever known, because he wrote 
for all times and all peoples. He was born at Stratford-on-Avon, where 
fifty-two years later, he died. At the age of twenty-two he removed to 
London. There for twenty years he wrote poems and plays, acted in 
plays, and in time built his own theater. The last six years of his life 
he spent quietly at Stratford. His stories and the characters he created 
are immortal. 

1. After you have read the story through silently, you may wish to 
test your understanding of it by telling some facts about each topic in 
this outline: 

(a) Life of the banished duke in the forest of Arden 

(b) The wrestling match 

(c) The banishment of Rosalind 

(d) Life in the shepherd cottage 

(e) Orlando and Adam 
(/) The mock-courtship 

(g) The meeting of Oliver and Orlando 
(h) The happy ending 

2. What do you think of Rosalind's disguise? In Shakespeare's time 
no women acted in plays ; the characters of women were taken by young 
boys. Would this make the disguise seem more reasonable to the 
audience of that day? What attracts us most to Rosalind, her kindly 
disposition, her misfortune, or her sense of humor? How does she 
reveal her sense of humor? 

3. Tell how these characters happened to be in the forest of Arden : 

(a) The duke and his followers (c) Orlando and Adam 

(b) Rosalind and Celia (d) Oliver 

4. A group of volunteers may find in Shakespeare's play As You Like 
It certain well-known passages, and read them to the class : 

(a) "Sweet are the uses of adversity," Act II, Scene i. 

(b) Adam's loyalty to Orlando, Act II, Scene iii. 

(c) Scene between Duke Senior and Orlando, Act II, Scene vii. 

(d) "All the world's a stage," Act II, Scene vii. 

(e) Orlando's poems on the trees, Act III, Scene ii. 

You may like to read other stories in Tales from Shakespeare. You 
will enjoy the pictures in the edition illustrated by Arthur Rackham. 



A BACKWARD LOOK 

Adventures related in such a manner that they fire our 
. imaginations have in them the elements of literature. 
What was Lincoln Ellsworth's great adventure, and how 
does he tell us about his own experiences? What other 
selection in this group relates adventures based upon facts ? 
What ballads in Part Two do you think may have been 
based upon old legends? Name two stories in which the 
adventures are purely the creations of the author's fancy. 
As you think over the various adventures in Part Two, 
which one stands out most vividly in your mind? Was it 
the adventure itself, do you think, or the manner of telling 
it, that made it seem so real ? 

Mention three facts that you learned about ballads. How 
does a folk ballad differ from a ballad like ' ' The Highway- 
man"? Both "John Gilpin" and "The Leap of Koushan 
Beg" are modern ballads. Which one resembles the folk 
ballad more closely in rime, meter, and directness? What 
ballads have you heard on the phonograph or over the 
radio ? 

Name one interesting fact about each of the following 
authors: Scott, Longfellow, Browning, and Alfred Noyes. 
What library reading have you done in connection with 
Part Two ? What progress have you made in the use of the 
library catalogue? In The Readers' Guide to Periodical 
Literature? Which book report inspired you to read the 
book? 

What new words have you added to your vocabulary 
during the past month? How many new words, on an 
average, do you add to your vocabulary each month? Is 
there anyone in the class who has made such marked im- 
provement in reading poetry aloud as to qualify for a 
poetry-reading contest such as is described on page 133? 

268 



PART THREE 

"The GOOD 
CITIZEN 




nil 



THE AMERICAN BOY 

THEODORE ROOSEVELT 

What we have a right to expect from 
the American boy is that he shall turn out 
to be a good American man. Now, the 
chances are strong that he won't be much 
of a man unless he is a good deal of a boy. 
He must not be a coward or weakling, a 
bully, a shirk, or a prig. He must work 
hard and play hard. He must be clean- 
minded and clean-lived, and be able to 
hold his own under all circumstances and 
against all comers. It is only on these 
conditions that he will grow into the kind 
of man of whom America can really be 
proud. 



269 



GUIDES TO CITIZENSHIP 

Let us imagine, using that power of making mind pic- 
j tures which we employed as we read of adventure, that 
we have been away from home a year, not in another town, 
nor in the next state, but across an ocean, the Atlantic or 
the Pacific. Then we come home on a foreign boat, so that 
it is not until we approach our own harbor that we see float- 
ing against the sky the " stars and stripes" which we have 
not seen for a twelvemonth. 

Will that flying pattern of red and white and blue be to 
us just a piece of cloth ? And if a band on our boat or on 
shore should strike up ''The Star-Spangled Banner," will 
that be just a lively tune ? Hardly ! The flag and the music 
will say ' ' Home ! " to us, and we shall find that nothing we 
have heard or seen on our whole trip was quite so beautiful 
as the banner and the song that await us on our return, 

The joy we feel will soon show us how deep our love for 
America really is. It is as natural for us to love our country 
as to love our mother. 

Here is a section of our book about people who whole- 
heartedly loved their country. There are scenes from the 
past which remind us that the United States as we know it 
today is a costly heritage, left us by men and women who 
gave up life or personal happiness to build this country. 

There are stories of good citizens, not only soldiers and 
statesmen, but scientists, a brave mother, and boys and girls 
in the schoolroom. Last of all come poems and essays which 
tell us of ideals that patriots have held for themselves and 
their country. As you read these guides to good citizenship, 
which one would you like to make your very own ? 

270 



PAUL KEVEBE'S EIDE 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 

Listen, my children, and you shall hear 

Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, 

On the eighteenth of April, in seventy-five — 

Hardly a man is now alive 

Who remembers that famous day and year. 

He said to his friend : i l If the British march 

By land or sea from the town tonight, 

Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch 

Of the North Church tower, as a signal light — 

One if by land, and two if by sea ; 

And I on the opposite shore will be 

Ready to ride and spread the alarm 

Through every Middlesex village and farm 

For the country-folk to be up and to arm. ' ' 

Then he said ' ' Good-night, ' ' and with muffled oar 

Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, 

Just as the moon rose over the bay, 

Where, swinging wide at her moorings, lay 

The Somerset, British man-of-war — 

A phantom ship, with each mast and spar 

Across the moon, like a prison bar, 

And a huge black hulk, that was magnified 

By its own reflection in the tide. 

Meanwhile, his friend through alley and street 
Wanders and watches with eager ears, 
271 



272 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Till in the silence around him he hears 
The muster of men at the barrack door, 
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet, 
And the measured tread of the grenadiers 
Marching down to their boats on the shore. 

Then he climbed to the tower of the church, 
Up the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread, 
To the belfry-chamber overhead, 
And startled the pigeons from their perch 
On the somber rafters, that round him made 
Masses and moving shapes of shade — 
Up the trembling ladder, steep and tall, 
To the highest window in the wall, 
Where he paused to listen and look down 
A moment on the roofs of the town, 
And the moonlight flowing over all. 
Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead 
In their night-encampment on the hill, 
Wrapped in silence so deep and still 
That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread, 
The watchful night-wind, as it went 
Creeping along from tent to tent, 
And seeming to whisper, ' ' All is well ! ' ' 
A moment only he feels the spell 
Of the place and the hour, the secret dread 
Of the lonely belfry and the dead ; 
For suddenly all his thoughts are bent 
On a shadowy something far away, 
Where the river widens to meet the bay — 
A line of black, that bends and floats 
On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats. 

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, 
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride, 



PAUL REVERE'S RIDE 273 

On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere. 

Now he patted his horse 's side ; 

Now gazed at the landscape far and near ; 

Then impetuous stamped the earth, 

And turned and tightened his saddle-girth ; 

But mostly he watched with eager search 

The belfry-tower of the old North Church, 

As it rose above the graves on the hill, 

Lonely, and spectral, and somber, and still. 

And lo ! as he looks, on the belfry 's height, 

A glimmer, and then a gleam of light ! 

He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, 

But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight 

A second lamp in the belfry burns ! 

The hurry of hoofs in a village street, 
A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, 
And beneath from the pebbles, in passing, a spark 
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet — 
That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the 

light, 
The fate of a nation was riding that night ; 
And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight, 
Kindled the land into flame with its heat. 

He has left the village and mounted the steep, 
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep, 
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides; 
And under the alders that skirt its edge, 
Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge, 
Is heard the tramp of the steed as he rides. 

It was twelve by the village clock 

When he crossed the bridge into Medford town. 

He heard the crowing of the cock, 



274 



ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 




And the barking of the farmer's dog, 
And felt the damp of the river-fog 
That rises after the sun goes down. 

It was one by the village clock 

When he galloped into Lexington. 

He saw the gilded weathercock 

Swim in the moonlight as he passed, 

And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare, 

Gaze at him with a spectral glare, 

As if they already stood aghast 

At the bloody work they would look upon. 



It was two by the village clock 

When he came to the bridge in Concord town. 

He heard the bleating of the flock, 

And the twitter of birds among the trees, 



PAUL REVERE'S RIDE 275 

And felt the breath of the morning breeze 
Blowing over the meadows brown. 
And one was safe and asleep in his bed 
Who at the bridge would be first to fall, 
Who that day would be lying dead, 
Pierced by a British musket-ball. 

You know the rest. In the books you have read 
How the British regulars fired and fled, 
How the farmers gave them ball for ball, 
From behind each fence and farmyard wall, 
Chasing the redcoats down the lane ; 
Then crossing the fields to emerge again 
Under the trees at the turn of the road, 
And only pausing to fire and load. 

So through the night rode Paul Revere ; 

And so through the night went his cry of alarm 

To every Middlesex village and farm — 

A cry of defiance, and not of fear, 

A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, 

And a word that shall echo f orevermore ! 

For, borne on the night-wind of the Past, 

Through all our history, to the last, 

In the hour of darkness and peril and need, 

The people will waken and listen to hear 

The hurrying hoof -beats of that steed, 

And the midnight message of Paul Revere. 

Notes and Questions 

1. Read the poem thoughtfully and be prepared to tell the story from 
this outline : 

(a) The understanding as to signals between Paul Revere and 
his friend 

(b) The friend in Boston 



276 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

(c) Paul Revere on the Charlestown side of the river 

(d) The ride 

What was Paul Revere's message? 

2. How does Longfellow make you feel the hurry of the rider? What 
do you consider the most expressive line in the poem? 

3. Draw a sketch showing the relative positions of Boston, Charles- 
town, Medford, Lexington, and Concord. Suggest a series of pictures 
that would tell the story of this famous historic ride. 

4. What famous rides did you read about in Part Two of this book? 
Which of the poems about rides, including "Paul Revere," do you think 
most interesting? Why? 

5. Make a study of the famous rides in history and literature. Which 
rides have historical significance? Which are humorous? Which rides 
took place in America? Which rides were written about by American 
authors ? Find as many pictures to illustrate the rides as you can. You 
will find Fifty Famous Rides and Riders, by James Baldwin, a helpful 
reference. 

6. Look up in the Glossary the meaning and pronunciation of: 
barrack, grenadier, impetuous, spectral. 

7. Your Glossary will help you to understand the meaning of: 
night-encampment (p. 272) fate of a nation (p. 273) 

tent to tent (p. 272) night-wind of the Past (p. 275) 



CONCORD HYMN 
Ralph Waldo Emerson 

By the rude bridge that arched the flood, 
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, 

Here once the embattled farmers stood, 
And fired the shot heard round the world. 

The foe long since in silence slept ; 

Alike the conqueror silent sleeps; 
And time the ruined bridge has swept 

Down the dark stream which, seaward creeps. 



THE AMERICAN EXPERIMENT 277 

On this green bank, by this soft stream, 

We set today a votive stone, 
That memory may their deed redeem, 

When, like our sires, our sons are gone. 

Spirit, that made those freemen dare 
To die, and leave their children free, 

Bid time and Nature gently spare 
The shaft we raise to them and Thee. 

Notes and Questions 

Emerson wrote this poem to celebrate the completion of the monu- 
ment which marks the spot on which the Battle of Concord was fought, 
April 19, 1775. This monument is the work of the American sculptor, 
Daniel C. French. The "Concord Hymn" was sung at the celebration, 
April 19, 1836. 

1. In what sense was the shot "heard round the world" 1 ? What did 
this battle mean to the world? 

2. For what purpose does the poet say the "votive stone" is being 
set? How does this poem help memory "to redeem the deed"? 

3. Why do we observe Memorial Day? Armistice Day? 

4. The last stanza tells us to whom the shaft was raised; which of 
these is the greater, the "freemen" or the "Spirit"? 

5. Find in the Glossary : arched, embattled, votive stone. 



THE AMERICAN EXPERIMENT 

Daniel Webster 

It was the extraordinary fortune of Washington that, having 
been intrusted in revolutionary times with the supreme military 
command, and having fulfilled that trust with equal renown for 
wisdom and for valor, he should be placed at the head of the 
first government in which an attempt was to be made on a large 
scale to rear the fabric of social order on the basis of a written 
constitution and of a pure representative principle. A govern- 
ment was to be established, without a throne, without an aris- 



278 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

tocracy, without castes, orders, or privileges; and this govern- 
ment, instead of being a democracy existing and acting within 
the walls of a single city, was to be extended over a vast country 
of different climates, interests, and habits, and of various com- 
munions of our common Christian faith. The experiment cer- 
tainly was entirely new. A popular government of this extent, 
it was evident, could be framed only by carrying into full effect 
the principle of representation or of delegated power; and the 
world was to see whether society could, by the strength of this 
principle, maintain its own peace and good government, carry 
forward its own great interests, and conduct itself to political 
renown and glory. 

At the period of the birth of Washington there existed in 
Europe no political liberty in large communities except in the 
provinces of Holland, and except that England herself had set a 
great example, so far as it went, by her glorious Revolution of 
1688. Everywhere else despotic power was predominant, and 
the feudal or military principle held the mass of mankind in 
hopeless bondage. The king was the state, the king was the 
country, the king was all. There was one king, with power not 
derived from his people, and too high to be questioned, and the 
rest were all subjects, with no political right but obedience. All 
above was intangible power; all below was quiet subjection. A 
recent occurrence in the French chamber shows us how public 
opinion on these subjects is changed. A minister had spoken of 
the "king's subjects." "There are no subjects," exclaimed 
hundreds of voices at once, " in a country where the people make 
the king!" 

Gentlemen, the spirit of human liberty and of free govern- 
ment, nurtured and grown into strength and beauty in America, 
has stretched its course into the midst of the nations. It must 
change, it is fast changing, the face of the earth. Our great, 
our high duty is to show, in our own example, that this spirit 
is a spirit of health as well as a spirit of power ; that its benignity 
is as great as its strength ; that its efficiency to secure individual 
rights, social relations, and moral order is equal to the force 



THE AMERICAN EXPERIMENT 279 

with which it prostrates principalities and powers. The world, 
at this moment, is regarding us with a willing, but something of 
a fearful, admiration. Its deep and awful anxiety is to learn 
whether free states may be stable as well as free ; whether popu- 
lar power may be trusted as well as feared; in short, whether 
wise, regular, and virtuous self-government is a vision for the 
contemplation of theorists, or a truth established, illustrated, 
and brought into practice in the country of Washington. 

Notes and Questions 
Daniel Webster (1782-1852) stands out as America's foremost orator. 
His eloquence, his clear thinking, and the force of his personality made 
him equally great, whether answering an opponent in the Senate or 
delivering less passionate orations on anniversary occasions. He was 
the champion of the idea of complete union among the states. His 
service in the Senate, representing not only the people of Massachusetts, 
but all who believed with him in "Liberty and Union, now and forever, 
one and inseparable," and his service as Secretary of State in President 
Tyler's cabinet, made him one of America's great statesmen. 

1. This selection is taken from an address, "The Character of Wash- 
ington," delivered at a public dinner in Washington, D. C, on February 
22, 1832, the centennial of Washington's birthday. Why was a dis- 
cussion of the "American Experiment" especially appropriate on such 
an occasion? 

2. Find lines in the first paragraph in which Daniel Webster defines 
this experiment ? Explain the two distinctive features of the experiment. 
Why was the use of "the principle of representation" so necessary in 
the American experiment in free government? 

3. In the second paragraph Webster reviews the situation with 
reference to political liberty in Europe. What change in France within 
the century does he note? Can you mention any like changes in Europe 
since Webster's time? 

4. In the last paragraph what prophecy does Webster make ? To what 
extent has this prophecy come true? 

5. Find in the Glossary the meaning of these phrases : 
fabric of social order (p. 277) despotic power (p. 278) 
various communions (p. 278) prostrates principalities (p. 279) 
delegated power (p. 278) contemplation of theorists (p. 279) 



GETTYSBURG ADDRESS 
Abraham Lincoln 

After the battle was fought at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, on July 1-2, 
1863, the battleground became a national cemetery in Avhich thousands 
of soldiers from the North and South were buried. On November 19, 
1863, a large crowd of people met there to dedicate the ground. Lincoln 
was asked to be present and to say a few words at the dedication. Like 
all his writings, the Address shows intense thought and feeling expressed 
in simple words. Edward Everett, who delivered the oration of the day, 
wrote to Lincoln, "I should be glad if I could flatter myself that I came 
as near the central idea of the occasion in two hours as you did in two 
minutes." 

Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on 
this continent a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated 
to the proposition that all men are created equal. 

Now we are engaged in a great civil war; testing whether 
that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can 
long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. 
We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final rest- 
ing place for those who here gave their lives that that nation 
might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should 
do this. 

But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate — we cannot con- 
secrate — we cannot hallow — this ground. The brave men, living 
and dead, who struggled here have consecrated it far above our 
poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor 
long remember, what we say here, but it can never forget what 
they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here 
to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus 
far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated 
to the great task remaining before us — that from these honored 
dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they 

280 



GETTYSBURG ADDRESS 




gave the last full measure of devotion — that we here highly 
resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain — that this 
nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom — and that 
government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not 
perish from the earth. 

Notes and Questions 

Abraham Lincoln (1809-1865), the sixteenth President of the United 
States, was born on a farm near Hodgensville, Kentucky. When he was 
seven years old, the Lincoln family moved to Indiana, and in 1830 to 
Illinois. Lincoln's boyhood was full of hardships and privation. He 
was able to attend school only a few months altogether, but he had a 
small number of good books, which he read again and again. By hard 
struggles he educated himself, became a lawyer, a member of Congress, 
and in 1860 was elected President. He was assassinated by an actor 



282 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

named Booth, April 14, 1865. There are many memorials to Lincoln: 
the farm where he was born was presented to the nation in 1916; the 
Abraham Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D. C, stands in Potomac 
Park, near the shore of the Potomac River; there is a beautiful monu- 
ment in Springfield, Illinois, where he is buried; a national highway 
crossing the continent from east to west has been named the Lincoln 
Highway; one of the most famous statues of Lincoln is the one made by 
Saint Gaudens, which stands in Lincoln Park, Chicago. 

1. "Fourscore and seven years"; to what date and event does this 
refer? Read the words which tell you that Lincoln was unconscious of 
the fact that he was able to produce a literary masterpiece. 

2. Do you think that the prophecy, "the world will little note, nor 
long remember," the words uttered on that occasion, has been fulfilled 1 ? 
What parts of the speech are most frequently quoted? 

3. Locate on a map of the United States the battleground at Gettys- 
burg. A section of this region has now become a national park. 

4. In a speech delivered in Independence Hall in 1861, just before he 
became President, Lincoln said, "I have never had a feeling, politically, 
that did not spring from the sentiments embodied in the Declaration of 
Independence. ... It was not the mere matter of the separation of 
the colonies from the motherland, but that sentiment in the Declaration 
of Independence which gave liberty, not alone to the people of this 
country, but, I hope, to the world for all future time"; what is the 
sentence in the Declaration of Independence to which Lincoln refers? 

5. You will probably wish to memorize the address. 

6. You may be interested in seeing the established version of the 
"Gettysburg Address." If possible, draw from the library and bring to 
class "Lincoln's Gettysburg Address," The Century, for February, 1894. 
Note Lincoln's handwriting ; compare the three versions of the address : 
Lincoln's first draft, the Associated Press report, and Lincoln's revised 
autograph copy. Show the accepted version to the class. 



ABEAHAM LINCOLN 

Woodrow Wilson 

This address was delivered September 4, 1916, by Woodrow Wilson 
when the Lincoln birthplace farm near Hodgensville, Kentucky, was 
presented to the nation and accepted by the War Department. By popu- 
lar subscription the log cabin itself was inclosed in an imposing granite 
memorial building. 

No more significant memorial could have been presented to 
the nation than this. It expresses so much of what is singular 
and noteworthy in the history of the country; it suggests so 
many of the things that we prize most highly in our life and in 
our system of government. How eloquent this little house within 
this shrine is of the vigor of democracy! There is nowhere in 
the land any home so remote, so humble, that it may not contain 
the power of mind and heart and conscience to which nations 
yield. Nature pays no tribute to aristocracy, subscribes to no 
creed of caste, renders fealty to no monarch or master of any 
name or kind. Genius is no snob. It does not run after titles or 
seek by preference the high circles of society. It affects humble 
company as well as great. It pays no special tribute to univer- 
sities or learned societies or conventional standards of great- 
ness, but serenely chooses its own comrades, its own haunts, its 
own cradle even, and its own life of adventure and of training. 
Here is proof of it. This little hut was the cradle of one of the 
great sons of men, a man of singular, delightful, vital genius who 
presently emerged upon the great stage of the nation's history, 
gaunt, shy, ungainly, but dominant and majestic, a natural ruler 
of men, himself inevitably the central figure of the great plot. 
No man can explain this, but every man can see how it demon- 
strates the vigor of democracy, where every door is open, in every 
hamlet and countryside, in city and wilderness alike, for the 

283 



284 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

ruler to emerge when he will and claim his leadership in the free 
life. Such are the authentic proofs of the validity and vitality 
of democracy. 

Here, no less, hides the mystery of democracy. "Who shall 
guess this secret of nature and providence ? Whatever the vigor 
and vitality of the stock from which he sprang, its mere vigor 
and soundness do not explain where this man got his great heart 
that seemed to comprehend all mankind in its catholic and 
benignant sympathy — the mind that sat enthroned behind those 
brooding, melancholy eyes, whose vision swept many a horizon 
which those about him dreamed not of — that mind that compre- 
hended what it had never seen, and understood the language of 
affairs with the ready ease of one to the manner born — or that 
nature which seemed in its varied richness to be the familiar of 
men of every way of life. This is the sacred mystery of democ- 
racy : that its richest fruits spring up out of soils which no man 
has prepared and in circumstances amidst which they are the 
least expected. This is a place alike of mystery and of re- 
assurance. 

It is likely that in a society ordered otherwise than our own, 
Lincoln could not have found himself or the path of fame and 
power upon which he walked serenely to his death. In this place 
it is right that we should remind ourselves of the solid and 
striking facts upon which our faith in democracy is founded. 
Many another man besides Lincoln has served the nation in its 
highest places of counsel and of action whose origins were as 
humble as his. Though the greatest example of the universal 
energy, richness, stimulation, and force of democracy, he is only 
one example among many. The permeating and all-pervasive 
virtue of the freedom which challenges us in America to make 
the most of every gift and power we possess, every page of our 
history serves to emphasize and illustrate. Standing here in 
this place, it seems almost the whole of the stirring story. 

Here Lincoln had his beginnings. Here the end and consum- 
mation of that great life seem remote and a bit incredible. And 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN 285 

yet there was no break anywhere between beginning and end, 
no lack of natural sequence anywhere. Nothing really incredible 
happened. Lincoln was unaffectedly as much at home in the 
White House as he was here. Do you share with me the feeling, 
I wonder, that he was permanently at home nowhere ? It seems 
to me that in the case of a man — I would rather say of a spirit — 
like Lincoln, the question where he was is of little significance, 
that it is always what he was that really arrests our thought and 
takes hold of our imagination. It is the spirit always that is 
sovereign. Lincoln, like the rest of us, was put through the 
discipline of the world — a very rough and exacting discipline 
for him, an indispensable discipline for every man who would 
know what he is about in the midst of the world 's affairs ; but his 
spirit got only its schooling there. It did not derive its character 
or its vision from the experiences which brought it to its full 
revelation. The test of every American must always be, not 
where he is, but what he is. That, also, is of the essence of 
democracy, and is the moral of which this place is most gravely 
expressive. 

We would like to think of men like Lincoln and Washington 
as typical Americans, but no man can be typical who is so 
unusual as these great men were. It was typical of American 
life that it should produce such men with supreme indifference 
as to the manner in which it produced them, and as readily here 
in this hut as amidst the little circle of cultivated gentlemen to 
whom Virginia owed so much in leadership and example. And 
Lincoln and Washington were typical Americans in the use 
they made of their genius. But there will be few such men at 
best, and we will not look into the mystery of how and why they 
come. We will only keep the door open for them always, and a 
hearty welcome — after we have recognized them. 

I have read many biographies of Lincoln; I have sought out 
with the greatest interest the many intimate stories that are told 
of him, the narratives of near-by friends, the sketches at close 
quarters, in which those who had the privilege of being associated 



286 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

with him have tried to depict for us the very man himself " in his 
habit as he lived ' ' ; but I have nowhere found a real intimate of 
Lincoln's. I nowhere get the impression in any narrative or 
reminiscence that the writer had in fact penetrated to the heart 
of his mystery, or that any man could penetrate to the heart of it. 
That brooding spirit had no real familiars. I get the impression 
that it never spoke out in complete self -revelation, and that it 
could not reveal itself completely to anyone. It was a very 
lonely spirit that looked out from underneath those shaggy brows 
and comprehended men without fully communing with them, as 
if, in spite of all its genial efforts at comradeship, it dwelt apart, 
saw its visions of duty where no man looked on. There is a very 
holy and very terrible isolation for the conscience of every man 
who seeks to read the destiny in affairs for others as well as for 
himself, for a nation as well as for individuals. That privacy no 
man can intrude upon. That lonely search of the spirit for the 
right perhaps no man can assist. This strange child of the cabin 
kept company with invisible things, was born into no intimacy 
but that of his own silent thoughts. 

I have come here today, not to utter a eulogy on Lincoln — he 
stands in need of none — but to endeavor to interpret the mean- 
ing of this gift to the nation of the place of his birth and origin. 
Is not this an altar upon which we may forever keep alive the 
vestal fire of democracy as upon a shrine at which some of the 
deepest and most sacred hopes of mankind may from age to age 
be rekindled? For these hopes must constantly be rekindled, 
and only those who live can rekindle them. The only stuff that 
can retain the life-giving heat is the stuff of living hearts. And 
the hopes of mankind cannot be kept alive by words merely, by 
constitutions and doctrines of right and codes of liberty. The 
object of democracy is to transmute these into the life and action 
of society, the self-denial and self-sacrifice of heroic men and 
women willing to make their lives an embodiment of right and 
service and enlightened purpose. The commands of democracy 
are as imperative as its privileges and opportunities are wide 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN 287 

and generous. Its compulsion is upon us. It will be great and 
lift a great light for the guidance of the nations only if we are 
great and carry that light high for the guidance of our own feet. 
We are not worthy to stand here unless we ourselves be in deed 
and in truth real democrats and servants of mankind, ready to 
give our very lives for the freedom and justice and spiritual 
exaltation of the great nation which shelters and nurtures us. 

Notes and Questions 

Thomas Woodrow Wilson (1856-1924), twenty-eighth President of 
the United States, was born in Staunton, Virginia. In college he was 
known as a man of strong character, and he showed a great enthusiasm 
for outdoor sports. He also sang in the glee club and became one of the 
leading debaters for Princeton. 

A very fitting tribute to Wilson, man of letters, was written by John 
H. Finley: 

"Woodrow Wilson will be remembered, long after his name becomes 
but one of a hundred or hundreds in the lengthening list of Presidents' 
names, as the author of words upon which the nation hung — words that 
caused the millions to pause in their fighting and which became the basis 
of the parley of peace — words which framed a covenant for the 'endur- 
ing' peace of the world. They are only words, but they carry an exalted 
hope of humanity and must some day find their guerdon in deed." 

1. How does Lincoln's life demonstrate "the vigor of democracy" ? 
Discuss, "Genius is no snob." What sentence in the second paragraph 
describes Lincoln ? What do you think of this sentence as an example of 
saying much in a few words'? 

2. What are some of the "mysteries of democracy" which Lincoln's 
life expressed? How do your school and other democratic institutions 
help you "to make the most of every gift and power you possess"? 
What is the "test of every American"? In what way were Washington 
and Lincoln typical Americans ? 

3. In what way might this cabin "keep alive the hopes of mankind" 
even better than "constitutions, doctrines of right, and codes of liberty"? 
What is your opinion of people who are willing to enjoy the privileges 
of the society to which they belong, but are not willing to share its 
duties ? What is expected of "real democrats" ? 



288 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

4. Which sentence helps you to see the occasion — the cabin and the 
crowds listening to the President? Be prepared to read to the class a 
sentence selected because it seemed especially significant to you. 

5. Arrange a program for the celebration of Lincoln's birthday in your 
school, and invite your parents. You may have : 

(a) A bulletin board exhibit of Lincoln pictures. 

( b ) Talks about some prominent Lincoln Memorials, such as : the 
Lincoln Memorial at Washington, D. C; the Nancy Hanks 
Memorial; the Home of Lincoln at Springfield, Illinois; the 
Hodgensville Farm, Kentucky. 

(c) Famous statues of Lincoln, such as St. Gaudens's, Lincoln 
Park, Chicago; statue in Lincoln Memorial, Washington, 
D. C, by Daniel Chester French. 

(d) Appreciations of Lincoln, such as "0 Captain ! My Captain !" 
Whitman ; "Lincoln, the Man of the People," Markham. 

(e) Sayings of Lincoln, such as the following : "Let us have faith 
that right makes might." "The face of an old friend is like a 
ray of sunshine through dark and gloomy clouds." "All that 
I am and all that I ever hope to be I owe to my angel mother." 
"I do the very best I know how; the very best I can; and I 
mean to keep doing so until the end." 

6. Find in the Glossary the meaning and pronunciation of : democracy, 
aristocracy, fealty, validity, catholic, permeating, consummation, sov- 
ereign, vestal, transmute. 

7. Explain the meaning of each of the following phrases. Your Glos- 
sary will be helpful, if they are not clear to you : 

creed of caste (p. 283) familiar of men (p. 284) 

conventional standards (p. 283) natural sequence (p. 285) 
to the manner born (p. 284) read the destiny (p. 286) 

Some more interesting stories about Lincoln are Abraham Lincoln, 
Sandburg; He Knew Lincoln, Tarbell; Boy's Life of Lincoln, Nicolay; 
"Abraham Lincoln," Holland (in Historic Boyhoods) . 



THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON 

Thomas Jefferson 

I think I knew General Washington intimately and thor- 
oughly, and were I called on to delineate his character, it should 
be in terms like these : 

His mind was great and powerful, without being of the very 
first order ; his penetration strong, though not so acute as that of 
a Newton, Bacon, or Locke, and as far as he saw, no judgment 
was ever sounder. It was slow in operation, being little aided by 
invention or imagination, but sure in conclusion. Hence the 
common remark of his officers, of the advantage he derived from 
councils of war, where, hearing all suggestions, he selected what- 
ever was best ; and certainly no general ever planned his battles 
more judiciously. But if deranged during the course of the 
action, if any member of his plan was dislocated by sudden cir- 
cumstances, he was slow in readjustment. The consequence was 
that he often failed in the field, and rarely against an enemy in 
station, as at Boston and New York. He was incapable of fear, 
meeting personal dangers with the calmest unconcern. 

Perhaps the strongest feature in his character was prudence ; 
never acting until every circumstance, every consideration, was 
maturely weighed ; refraining if he saw a doubt, but, when once 
decided, going through with his purpose whatever obstacles op- 
posed. His integrity was most pure, his justice the most inflex- 
ible I have ever known, no motives of interest or consanguinity, 
of friendship or hatred, being able to bias his decision. He was, 
indeed, in every sense of the words, a wise, a good, and a great 
man. His temper was naturally irritable and high-toned; but 
reflection and resolution had obtained a firm and habitual 
ascendancy over it. If ever, however, it broke its bounds, he was 
most tremendous in his wrath. 

289 



290 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

In his expenses he was honorable, but exact; liberal in con- 
tribution to whatever promised utility, but frowning" and un- 
yielding on all visionary projects and all unworthy calls on his 
charity. His heart was not warm in its affections ; but he exactly 
calculated every man's value, and gave him a solid esteem pro- 
portioned to it. His person, you know, was fine; his stature 
exactly what one could wish; his deportment easy, erect, and 
noble ; the best horseman of his age, and the most graceful figure 
that could be seen on horseback. 

Although in the circle of his friends, where he might be unre- 
served with safety, he took a free share in conversation, his col- 
loquial talents were not above mediocrity, possessing neither 
copiousness of ideas nor fluency of words. In public, when called 
on for a sudden opinion, he was unready, short, and embarrassed. 
Yet he wrote readily, rather diffusely, in an easy and correct 
style. This he had acquired by conversation with the world, for 
his education was merely reading, writing, and common arith- 
metic, to which he added surveying at a later day. 

His time was employed in action chiefly, reading little, and 
that only in agriculture and English history. His correspond- 
ence became necessarily extensive, and, with journalizing his 
agricultural proceedings, occupied most of his leisure hours 
withindoors. 

On the whole, his character was, in its mass, perfect, in noth- 
ing bad, in few points indifferent ; and it may truly be said that 
never did nature and fortune combine more perfectly to make a 
man great, and to place him in the same constellation with what- 
ever worthies have merited from man an everlasting remem- 
brance. 

For his was the singular destiny and merit of leading the 
armies of his country successfully through an arduous war for 
the establishment of its independence ; of conducting its councils 
through the birth of a government, new in its forms and prin- 
ciples, until it had settled down into a quiet and orderly train ; 




291 



292 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

and of scrupulously obeying the laws through the whole of his 
career, civil and military, of which the history of the world fur- 
nishes no other example. 

Notes and Questions 

Thomas Jefferson (1743-1826), a native of Virginia, was Governor of 
Virginia, Minister to France, Secretary of State in Washington's Cabi- 
net, Vice President, and President. He wrote the Declaration of Inde- 
pendence and was the founder of the University of Virginia. Jefferson 
was a brilliant scholar, a good violinist, a skillful horseman, and an 
accurate marksman with a rifle. His influence was clearly felt in the 
framing of the Constitution, though he was in France at that time. His 
speeches are sound in policy and clear in statement. 

1. What peculiarity fitted Jefferson to describe the character of Wash- 
ington? What conflict gave Washington an opportunity to show his 
greatness ? How had Washington's life prepared him to take advantage 
of his opportunities? 

2. Name the qualities, as given by Jefferson, that made Washington 
so great a leader. How did he show prudence? Integrity? Justice? 
From your readings can you give any instance in which he showed fear- 
lessness ? How did he show sureness in judgment ? What, in Jefferson's 
opinion, was the strongest feature of Washington's character ? 

3. How does Jefferson summarize his estimate of Washington? Give 
a brief summary of the things Washington accomplished. 

4. Find in the Glossary, or dictionary, the meaning of: delineate, 
judiciously, deranged, prudence, integrity, consanguinity, colloquial, 
mediocrity, fluency, constellation, destiny, arduous. 

5. With the help of your Glossary, explain the meaning of each of 
the following phrases: 

little aided by invention (p. 289) whatever promised utility (p. 290) 

dislocated by sudden circum- visionary projects (p. 290) 

stances (p. 289) solid esteem proportioned (p. 290) 

enemy in station (p. 289) deportment easy (p. 290) 

habitual ascendancy (p. 289) orderly train (p. 290) 



PATKIOTISM BEGINS IN THE HOME 
Henry W. Grady 

The germ of the best patriotism is in the love that a man has 
for the home he inhabits, for the soil he tills, for the trees that 
give him shade, and for the hills that stand in his pathway. 

I teach my son to love Georgia — to love the soil that he stands 
on — the broad acres that hold her substance, the dimpling val- 
leys in which her beauty rests, the forests that sing her songs 
of lullaby and of praise, and the brooks that run with her rip- 
pling laughter. The love of home — deep-rooted and abiding — 
that blurs the eyes of the dying soldier with the vision of an old 
homestead amid green fields and clustering trees — that follows 
the busy man through the clamoring world, and at last draws 
his tired feet from the highway and leads him through shady 
lanes and well-remembered paths until he gathers up the broken 
threads of his life — this, lodged in the heart of the citizen, is the 
saving principle of our government. 

We note the barracks of our standing army with their rolling 
drums and their fluttering flags as points of strength and pro- 
tection. But the citizen standing in the doorway of his home, 
contented on his threshold, his family gathered about his hearth- 
stone while the evening of a well-spent day closes in scenes and 
sounds that are dearest — he shall save the Republic when the 
drumtap is futile, and the barracks are exhausted. 

This love shall not be pent up or provincial. The home should 
be consecrated to humanity, and from its rooftree should fly 
the flag of the Republic. Every simple fruit gathered there, 
every sacrifice endured, and every victory won should bring bet- 
ter joy and inspiration in the knowledge that it will deepen the 
glory of our Republic and widen the harvest of humanity. 

Exalt the citizen. As the state is the unit of the government, 
he is the unit of the state. Teach him that his home is his castle, 

293 



294 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

and his sovereignty rests beneath his hat. Make him self- 
respecting, self-reliant, and responsible. Let him lean on the 
state for nothing that his own arm can do, and on the govern- 
ment for nothing that his state can do. Let him cultivate inde- 
pendence to the point of sacrifice, and learn that humble things 
with unbartered liberty are better than splendors bought with its 
price. Let him neither surrender his individuality to govern- 
ment nor merge it with the mob. 

Let him ever stand upright and fearless, a freeman born of 
freemen, sturdy in his own strength, dowering his family in the 
sweat of his brow, loving to his state, loyal to his Republic, 
earnest in his allegiance wherever it rests, but building his altar 
in the midst of his household gods and shrining in his own heart 
the uttermost temple of its liberty. 

Notes and Questions 

Henry W. Grady (1851-1889) was born in Athens, Georgia. He was 
graduated from the University of Georgia and studied at the University 
of Virginia. At an early age Grady became editor of the Rome Courier 
and later established the Atlanta Herald. In 1882 he became part owner 
and managing editor of the Atlanta Constitution, one of the great news- 
papers of the South. He was an eloquent speaker, and was widely known 
and admired for his broad sympathies and kindliness. 

1. "The germ of the best patriotism," according to this author, is in 
the love that a man has : 

(a) for his home. 

(b) for the soil that he tills. 

(c) for the trees that give him shade. 

(d) for the hills that stand in his pathway. 

How does Henry W. Grady tell you that this love for home and 
nature will save the Republic when war cannot do so? 

2. Which do you believe is of more importance in saving the Republic, 
the patriotic citizen or the drum-beat, the flag, and the barracks'? Give 
reasons for your answer. 

3. See how many suggestions made by the author for the exaltation 
of the citizen you can recall. He has given several, for example : "Teach 
him that his home is his castle." 



LETTER TO MBS. BIXBY 

Executive Mansion, Washington 
November 21, 1864 
Mrs. Bixby 

Boston, Mass. 
Dear Madam : 

I have been shown in the files of the War Department a state- 
ment of the Adjutant-General of Massachusetts that you are the 
mother of five sons who have died gloriously on the field of battle. 
I feel how weak and fruitless must be any words of mine which 
should attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so over- 
whelming, but I cannot refrain from tendering to you the con- 
solation that may be found in the thanks of the Republic that they 
died to save. I pray that the Heavenly Father may assuage the 
anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the cherished 
memory of the loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must be 
yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of freedom. 
Yours very sincerely and respectfully, 

Abraham Lincoln 

Notes and Questions 

1. What fine personal qualities in President Lincoln are you im- 
pressed with by reading this letter? Notice the date of the letter. How 
does this help you to locate in American history the sacrifice made by 
the mother? 

2. Memorize these words from Lincoln's second inaugural address: 
"With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right, 
as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are 
in ; to bind up the nation's wounds ; to care for him who shall have borne 
the battle, and for his widow and his orphan — to do all which may 
achieve a just and lasting peace among ourselves, and with all nations." 
Do these words from Lincoln support Woodrow Wilson's characteriza- 
tion of him in "Abraham Lincoln," page 283 ? 

295 



CITIZENSHIP: THE NOETHFIELD IDEAL 

"William Heyliger 

The Spirit of the Leader, from which "Citizenship : the Northfield 
Ideal" is taken, is a book dealing with the real school problems of stu- 
dents who are managing their own affairs. Heyliger, before writing this 
book, visited one hundred seventy-eight high schools, traveling over six 
thousand miles to do so, and addressed over two hundred twenty-five 
thousand high-school students. It is an inspiring and interesting story 
written to show boys and girls the real meaning of citizenship. 

UNEXPECTED SURPRISES AT NORTHFIELD 

The football season was over — the last game had been played. 
Basketball had not yet begun the hectic run of its schedule. Perry 
King, at his desk in Home Room 13 of the Northfield High 
School, sighed dolefully. 

" Might as well be a hermit," he reflected. " There won't be 
enough excitement for what's left of this semester to muss a 
fellow 's hair. ' ' 

But Perry was wrong. Life has a way of bobbing up with un- 
expected surprises. Three days later, Prank Baldwin, president 
of the Northfield Congress, resigned with the announcement that 
his family was moving from town. And the school, aroused 
from its quiet, found itself confronted with the duty of electing 
someone to fill his place. 

"Praska!" cried Perry. "Room 13 wants George Praska. 
Nothing to it but Praska. Might as well hold the election at 
once and get it over with." 

If Perry's plan had been to stampede the school for his can- 
didate, he almost succeeded. The cry was taken up in the halls. 
Northfield remembered how, under Praska 's leadership, the 
school had marched to the City Hall and had had muddy Nelson 
Avenue improved. Perry, flushed and excited, buttonholed Lit- 
tlefield in the doorway of the physics laboratory. 

296 



CITIZENSHIP: THE NORTHFIELD IDEAL 297 

1 * If we can get that election called at once, ' ' lie said, * ' Praska 
will go over without opposition. And then we'll have a Room 
13 fellow bossing the whole show. Room 13 has three votes in 
the Congress — yours, Praska 's, and mine. I'll make a motion to 
hold the election at once. You and Praska will vote for it. 
We'll pick up enough support from other members of the Con- 
gress to jam the motion through. If you ask me, I'll say that it 
will be pretty work." 

But student participation in the government of Northfield 
High had endowed many of the body with a true sense of values, 
a gravity of thought, and a perception of real responsibility. 
Littlefield, instead of giving off sparks of enthusiasm, grew sober. 
His eyebrows drew down in a frown. ' ' I don 't like that, ' ' he said. 
1 ' And I know Praska wouldn 't be a party to it. It 's not Praska 's 
style." 

"Do you think the school could get anybody better than 
George Praska?" Perry demanded hotly. 

"No. But rushing through an election just to seat our own 
candidate would make a bad precedent. This year it would give 
us Praska. But how about next year, or the year after? We've 
got to think of the school. You and Praska and I will be through 
here in a year or so, but the school will be here long after we're 
out. That's what counts — not tomorrow, but a long line of 
tomorrows. ' ' 

Perry was silent. "I guess you're right," he said at last. 
Littlefield flashed him a look of approval. The abrupt manner 
in w T hich he had surrendered an unsound theory was indication 
of what Northfield was doing for its young citizens. 

But though Perry had surrendered, he could not stifle a secret 
regret. He had developed an uncanny knack of interpreting 
popular sentiment. The sharp brain, functioning above his thin, 
bony body, seemed able to read what a group might be thinking. 
He knew that, at the moment, Praska was the choice of the school. 
But the moment would pass. Other candidates would be brought 
forward — it was in the nature of things that this should happen. 



298 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

And shrewd instinct told Perry that certainty passed out of an 
election once the friends of rival candidates began to run main 
issues up obscure and unexpected bypaths. 

In due time the Northfield Congress met and promulgated its 
findings. Nominations, the Congress ordered, must be made from 
the home rooms ; and each home room was limited to one choice. 
The names of candidates would be placed on the ballot in alpha- 
betical order, and the Congress would supervise the election. Five 
days were given in which to make nominations. 

Room 13 promptly nominated Praska. Three other home rooms 
promptly indorsed him. Then came a halt. Perry went scouting 
to learn the reason. 

"Opposition," he reported to Littlefield. 

Littlefield scowled. "Where? " 

"The girls." 

Next day one of the girls ' home rooms nominated Lee Merritt, 
who was serving as a member of the Congress. 

In Room 13 there were outbursts of mirth at the news. Ham- 
mond, the captain of the eleven, was convulsed with laughter. 

"You don't mean that they've named old 'Nimble-feet' 
Merritt?" 

Perry nodded. 

"Why, all that fellow can do is dance. That's where he got his 
nickname. What did he ever do for the school?" 

"He was chairman of the committee that gave the Thanksgiv- 
ing Day Entertainment," said Littlefield. 

Hammond snorted. "He had a good live committee. The 
committee members did the work and saved his bacon. He's a 
favorite with the girls, and that's the only place he shines." 

"Yes," Perry said slowly, "and there are four hundred fifty 
girls in Northfield and about three hundred fifty fellows. He's 
the best dancer in the school, and the girls crowd each other for 
a chance to be his partner. He has a way with them. There's 
no getting away from that. He's popular with them. And if 
they really get behind old ' Nimble-feet, ' they 've got the votes. ' ' 



CITIZENSHIP: THE NORTHFIELD IDEAL 299 

"Who," asked Littlefield, "who sprung his nomination?" 
"I don't know. But Betty Lawton is helping his candidacy." 
Littlefield gave a low whistle of consternation. Betty Lawton 
was, without question, the leading spirit in the girls' rooms. 
"Confound girls, anyway," Hammond said bitterly. 

NORTHFIELD GUILTY OF POOR CITIZENSHIP 

The following morning two more of the girls' rooms came out 
for Merritt. Betty Lawton 's influence was showing its strength. 
In a corner of the cafeteria, Perry, Hammond, and Littlefield 
held a council of gloom. 

"If the worst comes to the worst," Littlefield said, "we 
might try stuffing the ballot boxes." 

"No crooked work at Northfield, " Perry said sharply. 

Littlefield gave him a glance of scorn. "Did you think I 
meant it ? Of course there 's nothing crooked at Northfield. ' ' 

But there was. Just before classes were dismissed that after- 
noon, the news spread through the school that money had been 
stolen from three clothing lockers on the first floor. 

In the auditorium the following morning, Mr. Rue, the princi- 
pal, faced the students with unwonted gravity. 

"As a rule," he said, "the faculty prefers to have matters of 
ordinary interest to Northfield announced by duly elected officials 
of the student body. We like to see Northfield citizens function 
intelligently for themselves. But the matter that must come be- 
fore you this morning is of such extraordinary character that I 
deem it best to handle the matter myself. 

"Three of the clothing lockers were rifled yesterday, and 
money was stolen from all three. Fortunately, the amounts taken 
were small ; but that does not lessen the seriousness of the occur- 
rence. All of us, alive to the best interests of Northfield, have 
been asking, in our hearts, one question. Was this thing done by 
a citizen of Northfield ? I can tell you that it was not. 

"We have definitely established the fact that some outsider 
entered the school, committed the thefts, and left. However, 



300 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

there is an aspect to the case that must give us pause. The in- 
truder did not force a door nor break a lock. Each locker that 
was robbed had been left open. This was, in itself, a frank and 
careless invitation to loss. 

"To this extent Northfield has been guilty of poor citizenship. 
Good citizenship writes as its cardinal virtue obedience to law. 
The law calls for clothing lockers to be kept locked. The person 
who committed the thefts broke the moral law and the law of 
organized society. The students who left their lockers invitingly 
open broke the law of the school. No bank leaves its money out 
on the sidewalk. Such a condition would be akin to tempting peo- 
ple to steal. The giver of a bribe is 'as guilty as the taker ; and 
he who by carelessness tempts another to commit a theft is as 
guilty, in the larger meaning, as the one who steals. 

"We must have no more of this laxness at Northfield. Last 
night we got in touch with every member of our Congress. The 
school day has hardly begun, but the Congress has already met, 
and is organized to handle the situation. A 'Safety Committee' 
has been organized with Mr. Lee Merritt as chairman ; and it will 
have Room B-2 in the basement as its headquarters. This com- 
mittee will patrol all corridors and will test lockers during the 
day to see that they are kept locked. If a locker is found open, a 
warning slip will be left on the knob. A second slip will be for 
the second offense. But if a locker is found open for the third 
time, everything in it will be taken to the committee room ; and 
the owner will have to identify his property in order to get it 
back. 

' ' The members of this committee will wear arm bands, and on 
each band will be two letters — 'S' and 'C Their authority, 
where open lockers are found, is to be accepted by the school. I 
am sorry that the Congress has had to name such a committee. 
It should not be necessary for us to police ourselves. The Con- 
gress asks me to inform you that the committee will be disbanded 
just as soon as Northfield shows that it is capable of obeying its 
own laws without supervision." 



CITIZENSHIP: THE NORTHFIELD IDEAL 301 

The school filed soberly from the auditorium ; but once in the 
corridors the walls echoed a medley of excited debate and specu- 
lation. Back in Room 13 Mr. Banning held the boys while waiting 
for the next period bell. 

"I think," he said, "that Room 13 has a representative on the 
Safety Committee." 

Perry King arose. "I'm on the committee. We won't have 
our arm bands until tomorrow." 

"Can't do anything in this school," little Johnny Dunn 
chortled, "without Room 13 having a finger in the pie." 

"Let Room 13 keep its hands clean by not making it necessary 
to be reported by the Safety Committee," Perry said savagely. 
Plainly he was chewing some cud of bitter reflection. Mr. Ban- 
ning looked at him in surprise. Littlefield nudged Hammond. 

"Something's gone wrong," he observed wisely. "I'll bet it 
has something to do with the election. ' ' 

It did have something to do with the election. Twice, before 
the period bell rang, Perry tried to catch Praska's eye; later 
there was no chance to overtake him in the orderly lines out in 
the hall. During the morning he heard that one more room had 
declared for Praska. That was good. The information was 
followed by the announcement that the two remaining rooms — a 
girls' room and Merritt's own home room — had taken a stand for 
the rival candidate whose specialty was dancing. Perry's face 
grew long. He counted the minutes until noon, and then hastened 
down to the cafeteria. Praska was eating at a corner table. 

"Speed it up," Perry said. "I want to talk to you, and I 
can't do it here. There's too big a crowd." He got a tray, and 
brought his own meal back to the table. " I 've got an earful for 
you," he added, "and don't make any mistake about that." 

Twenty minutes later, on the quiet landing of a little-used rear 
stairway, the earful was duly delivered. 

1 ' Four home rooms have declared for you, ' ' Perry said, ' ' and 
four have declared for Merritt. Of course the fact that a home 
room indorses a candidate doesn't mean that the other fellow 



302 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

won't get any votes from that room. You'll get everything in 
your room ; Merritt will get everything in his. But in the other 
rooms that indorsed Merritt, you got some votes ; and he got some 
votes in the rooms that indorsed you. A room indorsement is 
simply a majority opinion. It doesn't bind the fellow who voted 
against the majority to swing into line and make the choice 
unanimous. ' ' 

Praska smiled his slow smile. l ' Why get excited about that ? ' ' 

"Four rooms against four rooms," said Perry. "The girls' 
rooms have the most votes. They're going to control this elec- 
tion." 

' ' Why shouldn 't they, if they have the most votes ? ' ' 

"But 'Nimble-feet' Merritt is chairman of the Safety Com- 
mittee." 

There was something in the way the sentence was said that 
brought Praska 's brows together in a frown. Plainly his friend 
was hinting at something queer — but he could not follow him. 
"What of that?" he asked at last. 

"Oh, you ninny," Perry said pityingly. "Can't you see 
what's going to happen? By and by some of the girls will leave 
their lockers open for the third time. Their things will be brought 
down to the committee room. And what will 'Nimble-feet' do? 
Will he make them toe the mark? He will not. He'll apologize 
to them for making them come down, and they'll go away figur- 
ing that he's just the nicest fellow in Northfield. What chance 
will you have against that?" 

Praska 's face was grave. "You mean Merritt will use the 
Safety Committee as part of his campaign ? ' ' 

"No; no." Perry was impatient. "He won't be able to do 
anything else. It's his way. He always gushes over a girl. And 
members of the committee, that the whole school knows are for 
you, will have to play along as he plays, or your election is gone. ' ' 

They looked into each other 's eyes as men do who seek to read 
each other's souls. Praska was the first to speak. 

"Let's go back," he said, and started down the stairs. 



CITIZENSHIP: THE NORTHFIELD IDEAL 303 



v. 




Perry sighed. The interview had not gone as he had counted. 
He had come there to warn Praska of the defeat that lay ahead ; 

to tell him . A chill of doubt stabbed at him, and he grew icy 

with apprehension. As he started to follow, his steps were slow, 
his feet were heavy. 

"Praska stooping to that/' he said in a whisper. "I can't 
believe it. " 

And then Praska turned and came back up the stairs. In his 
eyes now was a look of pain as though the thing that brought 
him back might hurt; but his jaw was squared. 

"Perry," he said rapidly, after the fashion of one who seeks 
to get an unpleasant duty over with, "the presidency of the 
Congress is the greatest honor that Northfield can give. It's a 

big temptation, but . Oh, we've got to play the game. If I 

thought that a single vote came to me because some friend in 



304 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Room 13 let things slide and winked at . You know what 

Mr. Rue said this morning about open lockers. Bad citizenship ! 
We can't stand for that. I don't care how many votes " 

Perry gave a cry of understanding. ' ' You mean you think I 'm 
going to do 'Nimble-feet's' stunt and play for votes?" 

" Isn't that what you were trying to tell me?" 

"You poor prune! I wanted you to see what you were up 
against. I wanted to tell you that I was going to treat everybody 
who came down to the committee room without gloves. I was 
trying to tell you I was just about going to lose you that elec- 
tion." 

1 ' And I thought it was the other thing, ' ' said Praska. 

Perry was going to announce what he had believed, but stifled 
the words before they were uttered. Somehow, the thought itself 
seemed to carry a sting of insult. After a moment his lips 
twisted into a crooked smile. 

" ' I would rather be right than be president. ' Regular Henry 
Clay stuff. Remember when we first heard that saying of Clay 's ? 
Back, in the eighth grade of grammar school. It didn't mean 
much then ; but Mr. Banning said something about it last week. 
I'll tell the world he drove it home to me." 

"It's the spirit of America," Praska said passionately. And 
Perry wondered how he could ever have dreamed that Praska 
would sell his ideals for an honor. 

THE WORK OF THE SAFETY COMMITTEE 

There are, in every school, a shiftless few who cannot be 
touched by the finer things, and who take their responsibilities 
lightly. Close on their heels tread the laggards, the thoughtless 
and indifferent. Northfield was no exception to the common rule. 
And so it came to pass that before many days lockers were being 
emptied by the Safety Committee, and uneasy and blustering 
students were coming down to Room B-2 to claim their tem- 
porarily confiscated belongings. 

It was in Room B-2 that Perry 's scathing tongue won for him 
the nickname of the "Bawler-Out, " 



CITIZENSHIP: THE NORTHFIELD IDEAL 305 

1 * Why, ' ' said Littlefield in admiration, ' ' you never heard such 
dressing-downs in your life. To hear that long-legged bantam 
talk you'd think he was the Constitution of the United States 
and the Supreme Court rolled into one. Half the fellows who go 
down there could squeeze his ear and make him dance to their 
music ; but they take what he has to say and walk out like tame 
ducks. ' ' 

Friend or mere acquaintance — it was all the same to Perry. He 
had been placed in power to see that a necessary and vital law 
was obeyed. He recognized no other creed. Those who came to 
wheedle grew abashed before his indignant glare. A few came 
to threaten, only to become silent under his withering indigna- 
tion. He knew neither fear nor favor, excuse nor extenuation. 
Northfield had soiled itself through contact with a thief. It was 
never to happen again. Soft words had no power, friendship no 
appeal, to turn him from that. 

Between times he found occasion to campaign for Praska. One 
boy whom he had flayed in the morning, he approached for sup- 
port in the afternoon. The student eyed him coldly. 

"You were certainly around when nerve was given out," he 
commented. * ' A few hours ago you scalped me ; now you 're ask- 
ing for favors." 

"What do you want me to be," Perry demanded, "a North- 
field fellow or a trimmer ? ' ' 

The student flushed. "A Northfield fellow," he said after a 
moment. ' ■ I wouldn 't promise to vote for Praska ; but I haven 't 
promised to vote for Merritt, either. ' ' 

Merritt, on the other hand, took his duties with light ease. 
During his periods of patrol, he walked the corridors faithfully ; 
but there were times when Room B-2 did not see him for an 
entire day, and the committee took care of itself. When he 
would come in, he would always wear an air of busy importance. 
He would glance briefly through the record book, sign the reports 
that others had prepared, and then he was gone. 

"Good work," he would say from the doorway. "Somebody 
had better stay on deck. That stuff we took out of locker 136 — 



306 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Morris will be down looking for that this afternoon. Somebody 11 
have to be here to give it to him. ' ' 

Perry regarded him with sour disfavor. 

The campaign ran on and grew feverish with the days. Twice 
the auditorium was given over to political mass-meetings — once 
so that Merritt 's friends could plead his case, again so that 
Praska's adherents could advance his claims. Neither Betty 
Lawton nor Perry was among the orators. Perry was down in 
Room B-2 doing work that had to be done. Betty was in the 
assembly, merely a listener, but she applauded each speaker who 
said a good word for Merritt. Littlefield, who was watching her 
narrowly, saw that. 

It was after the meeting called to help him that Merritt made 
one of his brief visits to the headquarters of the Safety Commit- 
tee. He had been praised for the sharp manner in which the 
committee was supervising the lockers; his spirit had expanded 
mellowly under the tide of approval. No doubt he thought he 
had earned all the good things that had been said of him. And 
while he was in the committee room making his perfunctory ex- 
amination of the records, a girl from the junior class came in to 
claim several articles that had been removed from her open 
locker. 

Merritt sprang nimbly to his feet. l ' Miss Hunt ! I 'm sorry you 
have had to come down here. Has it inconvenienced you ? Really, 
I could have taken care of this if you had let me know. We had 
to take them ; no way out of it. It 's a school order. You Tl keep 
your locker closed hereafter, won 't you ? Going right upstairs ? ' ' 

"Yes; Betty Lawton is waiting for me." In fact, Betty stood 
in the doorway. 

"Let me carry them for you/' Merritt said quickly, and 
draped the girl's coat over his arm. Chatting and laughing, he 
led the way from the room. 

Perry, who had seen it all, made a bow to an imaginary visitor. 
' * O Miss Dillpickle ! What an outrage that your own things 
should have been taken from your own locker. I am humiliated 



CITIZENSHIP: THE NORTHFIELD IDEAL 307 

that this should have happened to you. Of course, the school says 
you deserve this punishment, but what 's good citizenship between 
friends?" He kicked over the chair that Merritt had just va- 
cated. ' ' Of all the rot, ' ' he said in disgust. 

But calling Merritt 's methods names did not minimize their 
danger to Praska. Here was a girl offender who had been treated 
apologetically, and another girl who had witnessed the deference 
that she had been shown. They would spread a report of Mer- 
ritt 's consideration through the girls' home rooms. And with 
Betty Lawton telling it 

Perry waited glumly until another member of the committee 
came to relieve him. This was Wednesday. The election was to be 
held Friday. All day tomorrow for the telling of a sympathetic 
story of what a thoughtful, engaging young man Lee Merritt 
was. All of Friday, until the hour of the election, for the story 
to be told and retold. If Merritt had been deliberately seeking 
votes through his connection with the Safety Committee, Perry 
might have found a savage joy in counterplotting; but Merritt, 
who could find so little time for his committee chairmanships, 
seemed innocently unaware of the strength he was building up 
behind his gallantries. Perry shook his head helplessly and went 
upstairs. 

The hour was well on toward four o'clock; yet by rare good 
luck, he met Praska going out of the school door. Perry was 
nothing if not curious. 

"What kept you so late?" 

1 ' Room 13 is turning out an election circular tomorrow. They 
asked me to wait while they got up the copy. Johnnie Baffin 
owns a small printing press ; some of the fellows are going around 
there tonight, and after Johnnie sticks the type, they 're going to 
print the job." 

"Funny I wasn't told about that/' Perry said, with a shaft 
of jealousy. 

"One thing at a time," Praska said. "You're making a job 
of the Safety Committee — and a good job, too." 



308 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Perry's face lengthened. He told of what had happened in 
Room B-2 — told it bitterly, for he was sore in spirit. Praska 
looked past him, a far-away stare in his eyes, as though in the 
distance he saw visions of strength and truth. 

" Betty Lawton and every girl in Northfield," he said at 
last, "is a citizen of Northfield. That's the thing to remember. 
They're just as proud of Northfield as the rest of us. They're 
just as much interested in the school as any fellow. Of course, 
girls expect fellows to be nice to them, but I don't think they 
look for it, or want it, at the price of something big. ' ' 

' ' Big what ? ' ' Perry demanded. 

"Northfield citizenship," Praska answered. "Not the make- 
believe kind ; the real thing. ' ' 

Perry sniffed. "You wouldn't say that if you had seen the 
way those two girls acted today. ' ' 

"Maybe they haven't thought of it from the right angle. 
Maybe they just accepted what Merritt did as the courtesy a fel- 
low would naturally show a girl. Down in my heart I believe 
they're just as much alive to the real things as any of us are. I 
think they'd be insulted if they thought the school had one line 
of treatment for the boy citizens and another for the girl. I think 
they want to play the big game with us, and that they're ready 
to play it with us. I think they're eager and willing to take the 
knocks that go with the big game. They're not asking to be 
babied. They're citizens; and the fellow who refuses to judge 
them as citizens belittles them and belittles the school.' ' 

Perry had listened with a rising color in his cheeks. At the 
end he shook his head as though breaking away from a charm of 
words. 

"Wouldn't it be fine for the school if things ran like that?" 
he asked wistfully. 

Praska was disappointed. "You're one of those who think a 
girl has to be babied?" 

"The bulk of 'Nimble-feet' Merritt 's support is coming from 
the girls ' home rooms, ' ' Perry said practically. It was an argu- 
ment that admitted of no answer. He trudged off and left Praska 



CITIZENSHIP: THE NORTHFIELD IDEAL 309 

there still staring into the distance as though he still saw a 
vision. 

THE "bAWLER-OUT" 

Next morning the circulars that had been run off on Johnnie 
Baffin's press made their appearance in the school. Perry read 
one with interest : 



GEORGE PRASKA 
Room 13 Asks You to Elect Him on His Record 
You will vote a prepared ballot for President of the Con- 
gress. 
Why? 

Because George Praska fought for a prepared ballot last 
fall in Room 13 elections. The principle for which he 
fought was sound. Every home room in Northfield has 
adopted it. 

You won't have to wade across muddy Nelson Avenue 
hereafter. 
Why? 

Because George Praska led Northfield to the City Hall 
and had the street improved. 

A VOTE FOR PRASKA 

is 
A VOTE FOR PROGRESS 



"That," said Littlefield over his shoulder, "is what I call a 
mighty fine campaign document. It ought to swing this election. ' ' 

"Who wrote it?" Perry asked. 

"I did," Littlefield said modestly. "Don't you like it?" 

Perry liked it immensely. The more he thought of it, the more 
its arguments seemed conclusive and sweeping. Coming the day 
before the election, it would rivet attention on the candidates 
and their known capabilities. Later, in physics, when his mind 
should have been dissecting some problems that had to do with 
the energy of steam, his imagination was captivated by pictures 
of signs that the school would find on Nelson Avenue next morn- 



310 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

ing. He intended to erect them. He even know how the signs 
would look : ' ' Thank Praska for a Clean Street. ' ' That, he told 
himself proudly, would be a knock-out, the last straw, the win- 
ning hit, the grand finale that would bring home the bacon. 

At noon, after eating, he went outdoors to decide just where 
the signs should go. On the outdoor steps he paused. Merritt was 
on the sidewalk, the center of a group of eagerly questioning 
girls. He held in his hand one of the Praska circulars, and was 
talking lightly. Some of his audience began to laugh. 

"Isn't that perfectly ridiculous," came a clear soprano voice. 
Perry turned on his heels and re-entered the school. He was in 
no mood to go back to Room 13. It was not his hour for Safety 
Committee duty; yet a sort of restlessness led him down to 
Room B-2. The committee quarters were deserted. Clothing, in 
neat piles over in a corner, told him that some lockers had been 
cleaned out that day. He began to look through the slips on his 
desk. George Hartford, Frank Mason, Elizabeth Lawton— — . 
Even as his eyes opened wide, there was a sound from the hall, 
a patter of feet on the floor, and then a voice. 

"Oh, Perry, won't you please let me have my things? I'm in 
an awful hurry. ' ' 

For just a moment Perry hesitated. Temptation to make politi- 
cal capital of the situation touched him — he who had vowed to 
handle the work with honor. This girl was a leader. She could 
influence votes. And then the temptation was gone, routed before 
his feeling for a higher duty and the stern necessity of upholding 
a Northfield ideal. Slowly he took from the desk the paper that 
bore her name. 

"Won't you sit down?" he said. 

She looked at him in surprise. "But I'm in a hurry." 

"That's twice today you've been in a hurry. The first time 
when you were so much in a hurry that you forgot to protect 
your locker. The doctors say that hurry kills people. You 
don 't want to die young, do you ? ' ' 

She thought for a moment that he was joking ; but the look on 
his face dispelled that theory. A judge, sentencing a prisoner to 



CITIZENSHIP: THE NORTHFIELD IDEAL 311 

death, could not have been more serious. His voice carried a 
solemnity that made her uneasy. She did not mean to do it — and 
yet she sank into the chair toward which he had motioned. 

' ' Socially, Miss Lawton, ' ' he said, "it is always a pleasure to 
meet you, but I do not care to meet you under the circumstances 
that prevail today. You have left a locker open. Because you 
and others are careless, one student had to give up part of a 
study period to patrol your corridor, to take your things out, and 
to bring them here for safe-keeping. I have to stay here, too, 
to give them back to you when you get ready to come for them. 
Do you think it fair that your carelessness should make extra 
work for others ? You may be waited on at home ; I have nothing 
to say about that. But you can't expect to have people pick up 
and carry for you here. It isn't the Northfield spirit." 

An angry spot of red had begun to burn in the girl's cheeks. 

1 ' I came for my clothing, ' ' she said icily ; ' ' not to be lectured 
by you." 

"No," Perry said. "You came here convicted of bad citizen- 
ship. We can't pass bad citizenship over with a smile. It's too 
serious. If you object to getting both clothing and the truth at 
the same time, you can go to Mr. Rue 's office and complain. ' ' 

The girl half arose from her chair, and then dropped back. She 
bit her lips. This tall, thin monster who stood before her with 
the austere gravity of an executioner had all the best of it. She 
could not go to the principal's office without having to explain 
there how her locker had come to be open. Better a session with 
Perry than a session with Mr. Rue. She leaned back in the chair, 
turned her eyes toward the door leading to the hall, and began to 
hum. 

Perry went over to the clothing and brought back one of the 
piles. "Personal belongings must be identified before surren- 
der," he said. 

"One silk handbag." 

The girl continued to stare out of the door. 

"Not identified," said Perry. "We'll put that aside. It must 
belong to somebody else. ' ' 



312 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 




Betty sprang to her feet. "That's mine. My initials are in- 
side. My mother gave me that last Christmas." 

"You must value it," Perry observed, "to throw it in an 
open locker and leave it there. ' ' 

The girl's cheeks were burning. "I won't stay here to be in- 
sulted." 

' i You wouldn 't be here at all if you obeyed the Northfield laws. 
One felt hat and one coat trimmed with fur. ' ' 

"Mine," Betty snapped. "My name's stamped on the hat 
lining, and one of my notebooks is in the right-hand coat pocket. ' ' 

"One vanity case, one pair of gloves with a hole in one 
finger. ' ' 

' i You needn 't criticize my gloves, ' ' the girl cried angrily. 

"I wouldn't know anything about them if they hadn't been 
brought here," Perry reminded her. 

She wanted to walk out, to leave her belongings there, to turn 
an outraged back upon him and leave him to a hollow triumph. 



CITIZENSHIP: THE NORTHFIELD IDEAL 313 

But, somehow, even in her wrath, she felt a compelling, arresting 
force that would not let her go. He was gathering up the cloth- 
ing, piling it neatly, and she walked toward him tight-lipped, 
to take what was hers. He did not push it to her across the desk. 

1 ' It 's worse for a girl to be careless, ' ' he said, ' ' than it is for a 
fellow. People expect a girl to be orderly. If she isn't orderly, 
what kind of home will she have after she's married? Every- 
thing will be upset. I 'd think about that, Miss Lawton, ' ' he said 
gravely, and held the pile toward her. 

She snatched it from him. "The ' Bawler-Out ! ' " Her voice 
shook, "No wonder they call you that. ' Bawler-Out ! ' They 
ought to call you a tyrant. ' ' 

"And a girl like you," said Perry, "who's a leader, ought to 
stand with the law of Northfield and not against it. ' ' 

A stamp of her foot, a toss of a raven-black head, something 
that sounded like a cry of protest, and she was gone. Carefully, 
methodically, Perry wrote on the slip the date when the things 
taken from the locker had been claimed. Under this he signed 
his name with curious deliberation. 

Upstairs, in one of the corridors, he met Littlefield. "Seen 
Praska ? " he asked. 

Littlefield shook his head. 

"If you see him " Perry paused a moment. "Tell him 

Betty Lawton came to Room B-2 for her clothing. Tell him he 's 
lieked to a frazzle. He '11 understand. ' ' 

A STRONG HAND ON THE TILLER 

Leaving the basement or the school, Betty Lawton did not go 
directly to her own home room. She had begun to cry, and had 
then dried her tears with the resolve that nothing Perry King 
could do or say would make her cry. But her eyes were red, and 
she did not want to take this telltale sign back where others could 
see it. 

She was in one of the rear corridors, between a window and 
the foot of a side stairway. Two boys began to descend the stairs. 



314 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

She walked to the window, turned her back, and looked outdoors 
as though absorbed in something she saw. But the first words 
caught her attention. 

1 ' Perry King ' ' came a voice. * ' He 's nothing but a bag of wind. 
Likes to hear himself talk." 

"I don't think you've got him sized up right, " came an an- 
swer. 

' ' I didn't know you were in love with him. You wanted to beat 
him up after that dressing-down he gave you in the Safety Com- 
mittee room. ' ' 

"Well, I've changed my mind about that. He came to me 
that same day and began to urge me to consider Praska for 
President of the Congress. ' You 've got a fine nerve, ' I told him, 
'to ask favors from me after what you said to me today.' He 
came right back at me. 'What do you want me to be,' he asked, 
' a trimmer or a Northfield fellow ? ' There 's a whole lot in that. 
If he had wanted to trim, he could have made a lot of votes for 
Praska; and I'll bet a gold mine he's lost Praska votes by the 
way he's bawled out fellows. But that's Perry. He's for the 
school, and nothing else matters. I'll bet if Praska got nailed 
with an open locker, he'd bawl him out as hard as he'd hand it 
to you or me." 

The footsteps went along the corridor, turned a corner, and 
were swallowed in a host of other sounds. By and by, across the 
willful face of Betty Lawton a new expression began to find its 
way. He had spoken of the Northfield spirit. "You can't," he 
had said, ' ' pass bad citizenship over with a smile. ' ' And he had 
added something that gave her pause the longer she thought of it. 
A leader ought to stand for the law of Northfield and not against 
it. He had called her a leader — and in the same breath had 
condemned her. All at once a new and strange respect for this 
monster, this bawler-out, began to run through her veins. 

Presently she was stirred to action. Going to her locker, she 
hung up her clothing and carefully locked the door. As she 
turned away, she saw Merritt. Suddenly she was moved to try a 
strange conclusion. 



CITIZENSHIP: THE NORTHFIELD IDEAL 315 

"Lee," she called, as she reached his side, "my locker was 
emptied by the committee." 

' ' Gosh, ' ' he said. ' ' Isn 't that tough luck ? You girls who for- 
get to turn a key will get into trouble. When did it happen ? ' ' 

"This morning some time." 

* ' I wish you had told me sooner. I might have been able to fix 
it up for you at once. Wait here. 1 11 go and get your things. ' ' 

"You needn't," she said in a voice that baffled him. "I got 
them a little while ago from Perry King." As she went to her 
home room with the red now gone from her eyes, her heels seemed 
to tap out "bad citizenship, bad citizenship" on the floor. Mer- 
ritt had tried to smooth things for her; Perry had called her 
strictly to account. As between the two her choice ran to the 
sturdy, uncompromising viewpoint that gave no favors and 
asked none. 

Yet, after a time, she was conscious of a vague disquietude. 
Suppose Praska, confronted with complaint of Perry's methods, 
should try to pour an unctuous oil of insincerity upon the 
troubled water. Her mouth grew thin-lipped again, as it had 
done earlier that day down in Room B-2. She had tested Merritt 
by the light that Perry King had given her. Now she would test 
Praska. 

She did not come upon him until just before school closed for 
the day. They met outside the office of Mr. Rue, to which both 
had gone on errands. 

"George/' she said boldly, "Perry King is one of your chief 
lieutenants, isn't he?" 

"Yes; he is." 

"I had to go to the Safety Committee room today to claim 
some clothing. You know what the school calls him — the 'Bawler- 
Out.' Do you think he ought to talk to a girl the same way he 
talks to a boy?" 

' ' I have nothing to do with the Safety Committee, Betty. ' ' 

She felt a stirring of regret. In her present mood she wanted 
to encounter the strength of a leader with the courage to stand 
for his convictions. Praska, she thought, was trimming. 



316 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

' i Never mind that, ' ' she said. ' 1 1 know you 're not on the com- 
mittee. But you're running for office, and Perry is one of your 
chief supporters. You know what he's been doing in Room B-2. 
The whole school knows. Do you believe in his talking to a girl 
like that?" 

"I believe," Praska said slowly, "that if a girl and a fellow 
are to be equal in their citizenship, they must be equal in their 
responsibility. Perry wasn 't insulting, was he ? " 

' ' N — no, not exactly. He hurt my feelings. ' ' 

"Perhaps you hurt his feelings by breaking a Northfield law. 
Did you not leave your locker open?" 

"Yes." 

"Then Perry did what I would have done had I been in his 
place. ' ' 

At that moment the message that Perry had sent to him ran 
through Praska 's mind — "licked to a frazzle." A wry smile 
twisted his lips even as he bowed and took a step past the girl. 

But she stopped him with a quick little gesture, half impera- 
tive, half entreating. 

"George," she said, "I've been doing some campaign work 
for Lee Merritt, but I've seen some things today that have 
changed my mind. You never met my Uncle Bob, did you ? He 's 
captain of a steamer that runs to South America. He says that 
no boat can sail a true course without a strong hand on the tiller. 
You can count on my support when the Northfield Congress 
opens the polls tomorrow. ' ' 

Notes and Questions 

1. Find five instances in this story to show that Northfield was train- 
ing its young citizens to stand for high ideals. For example: Perry 
agreed with Littlefield that his {Perry's) original plan for rushing 
through the election was unsound. 

2. What is the correct answer to each of these questions : 

(a) Why did Littlefield object to Perry's plan to stampede the 
election of Praska? 

(b) How do you know that the girls at Northfield were good 
citizens ? 



CITIZENSHIP: THE NORTHFIELD IDEAL 317 

(c) Why was Perry, a member of the Safety Committee, a better 
citizen of Northfield than Merritt, the chairman? 

(d) Why did Betty Lawton support Praska? 

3. Do you believe Praska would make a good president of the North- 
field Congress? Why? What did Praska believe to be "the spirit of 
America" ? Is the following statement true in your school : "There are, 
in every school, a shiftless few who cannot be touched by the finer things, 
and who take their responsibilities lightly." 

What other classes of undesirable citizens does the author believe you 
will find in every school ? 

4. What is the difference between "a Northfield fellow and a trim- 
mer"? Why did the real citizens at Northfield dislike Lee Merritt? 

5. Select from this story five sentences that would make good slogans 
or mottoes. 

6. Make a special report on one of the following: 

(a) "Good citizenship writes as its cardinal virtue obedience to 
law." 

(b) "No bank leaves its money out on the sidewalk." 

(c) "The giver of a bribe is as guilty as the taker." 

(d) "I would rather be right than be president." 

(e) "No boat ean sail a true course without a strong hand on 
the tiller." 

7. If you do not know the meaning of each of these phrases, look 
them up in your Glossary : 

student participation in the gov- austere gravity of an execu- 
ernment (p. 297) tioner (p. 311) 

chewing some cud of bitter re- unctuous oil of insincerity (p, 
flection (p. 301) 315) 

8. You may wish to prove yourself a good citizen by reporting upon 
one of these reading references : 

{a) For report by individuals or committees : "The Voice of the 
People," Heyliger (in Child-Library Readers, Book Eight) ; 
"A Matter of Proper Spirit," Heyliger (in The Spirit of 
the Leader). 

(b) For use in leisure moments — recreation: "The Making of a 
Man," Taft, "The Meaning of Citizenship," Roosevelt, and 
"Why and How I Became an American," Pupin (in Child- 
Library Readers, Book Eight). 



CHAELES PBOTEUS STEINMETZ— MAKER 
OF LIGHTNING 

John Winthrop Hammond 

Artificial lightning is considered Dr. Steinmetz's greatest invention. 
He was the first man to succeed in producing bolts of real lightning at 
will. This achievement gained for him the popular title of "Jove, the 
Hurler of Thunderbolts." One author has said of him, "A strange 
figure, wistful, pathetic — that was Steinmetz. Deformed, an undersized, 
hunchbacked dwarf with the mind of an angel and the soul of a seer; 
that was Steinmetz." 

HE STUDIED LIGHTNING AND MADE IT 

Lightning, about which Dr. Steinmetz knew a great deal, is a 
strange and startling thing, but, although it sometimes kills, the 
fear that people have of it is, in most cases, quite needless. 

It is true that lightning now and then causes damage to prop- 
erty. Being a discharge of electricity in enormous volume, it is es- 
pecially dangerous to electrical supply systems. To show how these 
systems can be protected against lightning is indeed worth while. 
That is one of the very things that Steinmetz helped to do. It 
was one of the important achievements that made his life useful 
to the world. It was a great stone in the structure of his life 
tower, which lifted him still higher among men. 

For fully twenty years of his life, Dr. Steinmetz studied light- 
ning. His study of it came under the head of i * transient electri- 
cal currents. " By his investigations he was trying to discover 
the cause of sudden, unexpected high-voltage currents that bring 
damage to the electrical machines in power-houses and to the 
cables of transmission lines, unless they can be prevented. 

He found that lightning was one of the causes of such de- 
structive currents. Lightning does not often actually strike an 

318 



CHARLES PROTEUS STEINMETZ 



319 




electrical transmission system. But it may come so close to the 
wires that it causes what is known as "induced current" in the 
electrical system, which is a much greater current than the sys- 
tem can stand without breaking down. 

As electrical systems, supplying electricity to cities and towns, 
began to increase in size, they needed protection against such dis- 
turbances more than ever. Their very size made them more ex- 
posed to trouble from lightning. Realizing this, Dr. Steinmetz, 
some time before 1900, began to use his great ability to solve the 
problem. Other electrical engineers also worked at it. Out of 
these efforts came the invention of the lightning-arrester, which 
was first used long before Steinmetz had begun to study light- 
ning. 

A lightning-flash, Dr. Steinmetz declared, lasts only one mil- 
lionth part of a second. That is far too short a time to make it 
of any use to human beings, even if there were any possible 
way of using it. 



320 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

After he had studied lightning for many years, Dr. Steinmetz 
came to know so much about it — how it was caused, how much 
power it could produce, and how it behaved — that many people 
called him the "friend of lightning." It is certain that he was 
never afraid of it. Instead of wishing to hide during a thunder- 
storm, as some foolish persons do, he enjoyed watching the 
lightning as it flashed across the sky. He always knew it was 
dangerous if it struck close to where one happened to be ; but he 
had discovered that the chances of this were very small, and that 
there is not so much reason to be afraid of it as most people 
believe. 

Hence he did not practice any useless precautions during a 
thunderstorm. But he knew just what to do and what not to do 
to protect oneself from lightning. He knew there was no more 
danger in watching lightning from an open window or from the 
porch of one 's home than in going down cellar and staying there 
until the storm was over. But he was always careful never to 
seek shelter, during a thunderstorm, under a tree standing all 
alone -in a field, or one on top of a hill, for such trees are very 
often just like targets for lightning-bolts. 

As he went on with his study of this tremendous thing which 
has always so awed human beings, Dr. Steinmetz gathered all the 
data he could about lightning storms and places that had been 
struck by lightning. And, strangely enough, his very best chance 
came when lightning struck his own camp one -day in the sum- 
mer of 1920. Rather fortunately, perhaps, Dr. Steinmetz was 
not there at the time. .But within a day or two, he had heard 
about it. He at once put everything else aside in order to go out 
to the camp and see what the lightning had done. 

There he went over the ground just like a detective on the 
scene of a crime. He took careful notes of the path followed by 
the lightning, and secured photographs of the damage. 

Most singular of all, he carefully collected the fragments of 
a looking-glass which the lightning had smashed into many 
pieces. These fragments were like a Chinese puzzle; but he 
wished to put them together, for he believed that thereby he 



CHARLES PROTEUS STEINMETZ 321 

could discover how the looking-glass had been marked by the 
lightning. He was sure this would give him important informa- 
tion. Several friends who were with him at the time thought 
his idea a peculiar one. They could hardly believe that the re- 
sults would be worth the trouble of piecing the glass together. 
However, they said nothing, for they knew that Steinmetz would 
never do anything foolish or unnecessary. 

It took days and days to put the looking-glass together. No one 
without a great deal of patience would have done it. Steinmetz, 
however, had the patience; and he kept at the puzzle. Nothing 
could tire him or induce him to give it up. And he succeeded, 
after a great deal of time, in getting all the pieces back where 
they had been before the lightning smashed the glass. 

After this had been done, the looking-glass was very carefully 
placed between two pieces of plate glass, which were sealed along 
the edges. In this way it was taken from the camp to Dr. Stein- 
metz 's laboratory at the General Electric Works in Schenectady, 
where he studied it and was able to form several interesting con- 
clusions from it. 

In 1921 Steinmetz designed and had built a piece of electrical 
apparatus for producing artificial lightning in his laboratory. 
He called this machine the lightning-generator. It was built from 
data and knowledge which he had gained through years of study. 
It was just as carefully designed as the great electrical genera- 
tors in a power-station. 

The purpose of this machine was to allow Steinmetz to watch 
lightning strike. As he had often said, when an actual lightning- 
bolt strikes some point upon the earth, in a thunderstorm, no one 
is there to see it. No one knows beforehand when and where it 
will strike. Therefore it is impossible to obtain that precise infor- 
mation which engineers and scientists need in order to carry on 
their work and increase human knowledge. 

By means of his lightning-generator, however, Steinmetz be- 
lieved he could produce his own lightning, and produce it when- 
ever he desired. It would be ever so much weaker than real 
lightning, to be sure, but it would have exactly the same charac- 



322 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

teristics and would behave in exactly the same manner. And 
he would have the advantage of being present when it flashed. 
His experiment worked out just as he had expected it would. 
His calculations, seldom wrong, were right in this instance. His 
lightning-generator was a success, and he was able to learn a 
great deal from it in the next few years. 

The knowledge which he obtained in this manner was useful 
in helping the General Electric Company to produce better 
lightning-arresters. Lightning-arresters are automatic in their 
manner of operating. But for many years, engineers were not 
able to make them good enough to work without fail. It was 
not until information about lightning, such as Steinmetz se- 
cured, could be studied, that these lightning-arresters began to 
be of the utmost reliability. 

Thus it is seen that the Steinmetz lightning-generator was no 
mere " electrical show," intended simply to amuse and amaze. 
It had a sound, everyday, common-sense use. It helped to pro- 
duce lightning-arresters which could be counted on to do just 
what men wanted them to do. How the lightning machine 
worked must be told in a chapter by itself. It was a most inter- 
esting device. And it is noteworthy that Steinmetz continued, 
with his lightning-generator, to make his work more and more 
useful to every one who uses electricity. He was still building a 
"useful life." 

HOW HIS LIGHTNING MACHINE WORKED 

Everyone was so astonished at the idea of a man's ability to 
produce lightning that he did not consider whether or not the 
discovery made by Steinmetz announced in 1921 was a particu- 
larly useful one, but the public showed tremendous interest. 
The inventor was called "a forger of thunderbolts." Some 
newspapers spoke of him as a modern Jove. Everywhere his 
name was heard in conversation, always spoken in tones of great 
admiration. 

But he himself paid little attention to the excitement created 
by news of his artificial lightning. It was simply one part of his 



CHARLES PROTEUS STEINMETZ 323 

effort to accomplish a useful work for electrical engineering. 
He kept on with his work, using his lightning-generator all 
through 1922 and during a large part of 1923. By that time he 
found that he needed a more powerful apparatus — one that 
would discharge a larger lightning-bolt. Such a machine was 
completed only a few months before his death; but he never 
had an opportunity to use it. 

Dr. Steinmetz 's artificial lightning was astounding. It was 
something that few people would have supposed was possible. It 
caused thousands of people to talk about him ; and within a few 
months he was one of the best-known scientists in the United 
States. In the popular sense, he had become famous. 

Up to this time he had been widely known among engineers, 
especially electrical engineers. The whole engineering profes- 
sion looked upon him as one of its most distinguished men, and 
knew that he had done a number of exceedingly useful things. 
Therefore, his experiments in making lightning opened a new 
period in his career. It was the period when people in general 
became acquainted with his work and began to understand, to a 
small extent, how useful his life was to the whole world. 

It is quite true that Steinmetz did generate, or " manufac- 
ture/ ' lightning by means of his lightning-generator. But we 
must remember that this artificial lightning was many times less 
powerful than real lightning. According to Steinmetz 's own cal- 
culations, a lightning-bolt, in a thunderstorm, discharges at a 
pressure of a hundred million volts. The lightning-flash which 
he produced had only a hundred and twenty thousand volts. In 
the same way a flash of lightning has an actual energy estimated 
to be about five-hundred-million horse-power. The energy of his 
lightning was a million horse-power, or only one five-hundredth 
as much as that of real lightning. 

The manner in which Dr. Steinmetz produced his artificial 
lightning was exactly the same as the way in which real light- 
ning is produced in a storm. He learned, by study and observa- 
tion, just what happens when lightning is seen. 

He found that lightning comes from a thundercloud, which is 



324 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

made up of a countless number of raindrops. During sultry sum- 
mer weather, these raindrops keep gathering together in the 
atmosphere, each one of them having a small charge of electric- 
ity. Sometimes two or three small drops unite to make a large 
one, and the electrical charge then finds much less room on the 
one large drop than on several small ones. That means that the 
electricity is crowded for space, and hence an electrical tension, 
or voltage, is produced. 

As more raindrops keep coming into the thundercloud, a still 
larger amount of electricity is crowded together within the 
cloud. This cannot go on forever; a thundercloud cannot stand 
more than just so much electrical voltage. So at length, when 
the electrical energy can find no more room on the millions of 
drops in the cloud, it discharges as lightning ; the electricity goes 
off into space in the form of a lightning-bolt. 

Dr. Steinmetz imitated all this in making his lightning-gen- 
erator. He placed a number of large glass plates, each one coated 
with a magnetic substance, upon two or three racks. Then he 
connected them with an electrical circuit in such a manner that 
electricity would slowly flow into these plates — or condensers, 
as they were known — just as it flows into the thundercloud by 
means of the raindrops. The condensers stored up this electrical 
energy in just the same way that the thundercloud does. 

The lightning-generator was so designed that it could receive 
stored-up electricity in this manner until 120,000 volts was 
reached. This was the "breaking-down point" of the machine. 
It corresponded to the point at which the thundercloud can no 
longer hold the stored-up electricity of the raindrops. 

When the electricity in the condensers of the lightning- 
generator reached 120,000 volts, then came the artificial 
lightning-flash. That meant that the condensers, like the thunder- 
cloud, could not hold any more electrical energy, and so had to 
get rid of it by a "lightning discharge." 

Dr. Steinmetz and his assistants knew beforehand just where 
their artificial lightning would strike. They knew what path it 



CHARLES PROTEUS STEINMETZ 325 

would follow, and where to watch for its destructive effects. That 
was the great value of the lightning-generator. In allowing the 
engineers to watch where the lightning was going to strike, the 
lightning-generator made possible something which in a thunder- 
storm is never possible. No one ever knows where real lightning 
will strike. The path of the artificial lightning provided a line 
of least resistance for the discharge to follow. At a certain point 
in this path there was a gap, and in the gap was placed the arti- 
cle or object which the engineers wished the lightning to strike, 
so that they could see what would happen. 

In one experiment a stout piece of wire was placed at the point 
where the gap occurred. When the discharge came, this wire 
glowed white from the sudden heat, like a white streak, and then 
disappeared altogether into dust. 

The small limb of a tree was next placed in the path of the 
lightning. This was split into fragments by the bolt, and the 
pieces were hurled all over the room, some of them as far as 
twenty or thirty feet. 

When the generator discharged its artificial lightning, a loud 
report was heard somewhat like the discharge of a firecracker. 
This corresponded to the crash of thunder when lightning flashed 
in a thunderstorm. In proportion to the size of the lightning- 
bolt, it was every bit as real as the thunder that is heard follow- 
ing a flash of real lightning 

Notes and Questions 

Charles Proteus Steinmetz (1865-1923) owed his passage and even 
his entry to America to a young American student at an engineering 
school in Zurich, Switzerland. The immigration officers decided to bar 
him because they saw only a little man with a crippled body, defective 
eyesight, and no money — a man who would in all probability become a 
public charge. The young student interceded for him, and Steinmetz 
was allowed to come into the country. Few Americans can match the 
career of early struggles against obstacles which, through patience, per- 
severance, and hard work, this genius of electricity overcame. Of his 



326 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

own success Steinmetz said, "Any boy can achieve as much as I have 
achieved if he has the right opportunity." 

1. This selection brings to you important scientific information ; what 
is the most interesting fact you learned from your reading? 

2. Dr. Charles Steinmetz was often referred to as "the little wizard of 
electricity." What evidence have you gained from reading this selection 
which leads you to believe he deserved the title? What discovery made 
by Steinmetz is considered of great importance in the world of industry ? 

3. Read lines from the selection to show that Steinmetz lived up to 
his own ideals expressed in the following quotation: "If a young man 
goes at his work only as a means to an end — I am not much interested 
in him. I am interested in him if he seems to do his work for the work's 
sake." 

4. What is meant by the term "induced current"? What causes it? 
Why was Steinmetz called the "friend of lightning"? Why was he not 
afraid of lightning ? 

5. What assistance did Steinmetz get in solving his problem from the 
fact that his own camp was struck by lightning? For what purpose did 
Steinmetz design the lightning-generator? What "sound, everyday, 
common-sense use" did the lightning-generator have? 

6. Account for the fact that the newspapers referred to Steinmetz as 
a "modern Jove" and "a forger of thunderbolts." How did the making 
of "artificial lightning" change the life of Steinmetz? 

7. Explain in your own words how Dr. Steinmetz actually made light- 
ning. Briefly tell about the experiments Dr. Steinmetz and his 
assistants made. 

8. Read aloud the lines which: 

(a) Tell you that Steinmetz had a mathematical mind. 

(b) Show his perseverance. 

(c) Tell you how Steinmetz produced his artificial lightning. 

You will enjoy reading A Magician of Science, by John Winthrop 
Hammond, the book from which this selection was taken; The Boy 
Electrician and Boy's Home Book of Science and Construction, Morgan; 
"Steinmetz, Wizard of Electricity," Rice (in Child-Library Readers, 
Book Eight). 



LOUIS PASTEUR: HIS SERVICE TO MANKIND 

Erwin F. Smith 

Louis Pasteur (1822-1895) received during his lifetime the 
world's praise as few men have ever received it. This admiration 
was not merely a passing sentiment. His reputation for service 
still lives, and the glory of his work is likely to increase rather 
than diminish. His is one of the very greatest names of the nine- 
teenth century. 

Why is he so great, and wherein lies his genius ? 

WHY PASTEUR WAS SO GREAT 

One of his masters called him a dull boy, but he had what many 
a bright boy lacks — an ambition to do fine things and a dogged 
persistence in following out whatever he undertook. Coupled 
with these traits was a keen understanding of men which was 
often of great service to him, enabling him to choose wisely when 
selecting assistants. To these qualities we must add a whole- 
hearted devotion to truth; a deep and ever-increasing love of 
humanity ; much good common sense ; a keen insight into obscure 
phenomena; the desire to bring every hypothesis to the test of 
exact experiment ; and, finally, a militant spirit often in evidence. 

If Pasteur had been a mild, retiring sort of man, he would never 
have moved the world. Without the fighting spirit he could not 
have forced his discoveries upon an unwilling generation and 
have revolutionized the practice of medicine and surgery. He 
was an innovator, a torchbearer, a discoverer, an explorer of un- 
known continents of knowledge, the maker of new pathways in 
half a dozen fields of science ; but his greatest title to everlasting 
remembrance is the fact that his discoveries roused the world 
from its inertia, and started those lines of research which have 
led during the past fifty years to the amazing discovery of the 
causes of most of the communicable diseases, to the development 

327 



328 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 



m 



fSbfcr- 




of the use of vaccines, antitoxins, etc., to the general application 
of asepsis in surgery, and to a multitude of important uses in the 
arts, such as the manufacture of cheese and butter, the preserva- 
tion of foods and drinks, and, finally, to vast and varied hygienic 
undertakings for the suppression of disease. 

The boy is father of the man, according to a wise old proverb. 
To understand Pasteur we must certainly look first at the young 
man and his ways. He appears to have been an unselfish youth, 
devoted to his home and friends, and religious in the best sense 
of the word. He had a good father and mother whom he never 
forgot, nor were his sisters long out of mind. He was a studious 
boy, good rather than brilliant in his studies. His record when 
he graduated was as follows: "Good in Plutarch (Greek), good 
in Vergil, good in rhetoric, mediocre in history and geography, 
good in philosophy, good in French composition, and very good 
in the elements of the sciences. ' ' His homesickness, when he first 
went to Paris to study, and his fondness for drawing, in which 
he excelled, are strikingly early characteristics. Later he won 



LOUIS PASTEUR: HIS SERVICE TO MANKIND 329 

the praise of various masters of his first scientific studies which, 
they said, gave promise of a distinguished career. 

THE STUDIES HE MADE 

Pasteur first came into public notice by certain revolutionary 
studies on crystals. A little later he became profoundly inter- 
ested in fermentation — in what makes fruit juices change first 
into alcohol and then into vinegar, why milk sours, why foods 
spoil. The study of crystals led him naturally into this new 
field, and that opened up other vistas. He discovered that micro- 
scopic organisms are the cause of all the common fermentations. 
His studies showed him that each fermentation was a separate 
problem with ramifications in every direction. In one direction 
Pasteur's study of fermentation led him to suspect that minute 
ferments might be the cause of devastating human and animal 
diseases. The advance of science has been so great in this direc- 
tion during the last half century that it is almost impossible to 
put ourselves mentally into the cloud of ignorance and mis- 
information current everywhere when Pasteur first began his 
studies. What every schoolboy knows now, even the wisest hardly 
suspected then ; and as for proofs such as Pasteur furnished later, 
there were none. 

The first diseases he studied, if we exclude those of yeasts, 
were two diseases of the silkworm. These were so destructive 
that the entire silk- worm industry of France was threatened with 
extinction. At first he supposed that there was only one disease. 
Later, to his dismay, he discovered that there were two diseases 
and that his work must all be done over again with this fact in 
mind. 

But nothing discouraged for long this indomitable man, not 
even the partial paralysis which occurred at this time. Eventually 
he found simple remedies for the diseases of the silkworm and 
saved the industry. These silkworm studies absorbed all his time 
for several years and laid the foundation of all his future great- 
ness, because they led him definitely away from chemistry into 
the study of the causes of diseases of man and domestic animals. 



330 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

THE LESSON HIS LIFE TAUGHT 

Pasteur was endowed with a tireless energy. He acquired from 
his father the best thing any father can give to any son, namely, 
a love for work. No man can hope to amount to much without 
plenty of well-directed, hard work. It is the saving grace of 
human life. 

Next to work, the law of service is the highest and most obliga- 
tory of all the moral laws, and Pasteur was fired with the noble 
ambition to be of service to mankind. Herein he has left a lesson 
for all of us. 

We may very well leave our great man with this sentiment 
taken from one of his addresses and graven over the entrance 
to his tomb, and which, translated, reads: "Happy is he who 
bears in himself a God, an Ideal of Beauty, and who obeys it; 
Ideal of Art, Ideal of Science, Ideal of Country, Ideal of the 
Truths of the Gospel." 

Notes and Questions 

On November 14, 1881, the Pasteur Institute was founded at Paris, 
France. Thousands of people of all lands, suffering from bites of rabid 
animals, have been treated in this Institute, and the death rate from 
this cause has been reduced to less than one per cent. 

1. The author has given you several outstanding qualities of Pasteur 
which account for his success. For example : 

(a) "He had an ambition to do fine things." 
List six additional qualities. 

2. At the beginning of his great work Pasteur wrote his father that he 
prayed he might be able to add one little stone to the temple of human 
knowledge. What admirable human quality does this show? 

3. What great discoveries did Dr. Pasteur make? 

4. What brought Pasteur into public notice ? 

(a) His "study of crystals." 

(b) His study of fermentation. 

(c) His study of diseases. 

5. What admirable quality did Pasteur inherit from his father ? What 
were the words "graven over the entrance to his tomb" ? 

Read "Pasteur, Conserver of Human Life" (in Child-Library Readers, 
Book Eight). 



THE GHAMBEEED NAUTILUS 

Oliver Wendell Holmes 

This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, 

Sails the unshadowed main — 

The venturous bark that flings 
On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings 
In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings, 

And coral reefs lie bare, 
Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair. 

Its webs of living gauze no more unfurl ; 

Wrecked is the ship of pearl ! 

And every chambered cell, 
Where its dim dreaming life was wont to dwell, 
As the frail tenant shaped his growing shell, 

Before thee lies revealed — 
Its irised ceiling rent, its sunless crypt unsealed! 

Year after year beheld the silent toil 

That spread his lustrous coil; 

Still, as the spiral grew, 
He left the past year ? s dwelling for the new, 
Stole with soft step its shining archway through, 

Built up its idle door, 
Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more. 

Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, 

Child of the wandering sea, 

Cast from her lap, forlorn! 
From thy dead lips a clearer note is born 
Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn ! 

331 



332 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

While on mine ear it rings, 
Through the deep caves of thought I hear a voice that sings : 

Build thee more stately mansions, my soul, 

As the swift seasons roll ! 

Leave thy low-vaulted past ! 
Let each new temple, nobler than the last, 
Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast, 

Till thou at length art free, 
Leaving thine outgrown shell by life 's unresting sea ! 

Notes and Questions 

"The Chambered Nautilus" appeared in the Atlantic Monthly in 1858. 
The poet makes the "wrecked" shell that lies before him a symbol of 
life. The nautilus, a shellfish, builds each year a new and larger cell or 
compartment, into which it moves, closing up the cell that it previously 
occupied. If you have seen a nautilus shell, you will understand how 
well it symbolizes progress and growth, and how well the poet has 
described both the form and the color of the shell. 

Oliver Wendell Holmes (1809-1894) was born in Cambridge, Massa- 
chusetts, the son of a Congregational minister. He attended Phillips 
Andover Academy and was graduated from Harvard College in 1829. 
After studying medicine and anatomy in Paris, he began practicing in 
Boston. In 1847 he was made professor of physiology and anatomy at 
Harvard University, in which position he continued for thirty-five years. 
Holmes became famous when only twenty-one through the stirring 
stanzas of "Old Ironsides," a poem which he wrote as a protest against 
the dismantling of the historic battleship Constitution. 

When James Russell Lowell was offered the editorship of the Atlantic 
Monthly, he made it a condition of his acceptance that Holmes should be 
a contributor. The result was a series of articles entitled The Autocrat 
of the Breakfast Table. Among his best poems are "The Chambered 
Nautilus" and "The Deacon's Masterpiece." 

1. In what stanzas does the poet talk to us about the nautilus? In 
what stanza does he address the shell? Which stanza tells the message 
brought by the shell 1 ? Why was it necessary for the poet to tell us the 
history of the shell before he interpreted its message ? 



THE BUGLE SONG 333 

2. What made it possible for the poet to hear the message brought by 
the shell? Does this help you understand what kind of boy Oliver 
Wendell Holmes must have been? 

3. To what old belief concerning the nautilus does the poet refer in 
the first stanza? What things mentioned show that the poet is thinking 
of the warm waters in which the nautilus lives? Do you like the use 
of the word "wrecked" in connection with the nautilus? Why? 

4. Who was the "frail tenant"? What does the broken shell reveal? 
Find lines in the third stanza which tell how the cells are formed and 
why they were "sunless" as long as the shell was unbroken. 

5. How may the soul build more stately mansions ? What thoughts will 
help? What actions will help? 

6. Find in the Glossary the meaning and pronunciation of: siren, 
coral, wont, irised, rent, crypt, lustrous, Triton. 



THE BUGLE SONG 

Alfred, Lord Tennyson 

In order to get the full meaning and beauty out of your reading of 
this poem, you will wish to read the first paragraph under "Notes and 
Questions," page 334. 

The splendor falls on castle walls 

And snowy summits, old in story ; 
The long light shakes across the lakes ; 
And the wild cataract leaps in glory. 
Blow, bugle, blow ; set the wild echoes flying ; 
Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. 

hark ! O hear ! how thin and clear, 

And thinner, clearer, farther going! 
sweet and far from cliff and scar, 
The horns of Elfland, faintly blowing ! 
Blow — let us hear the purple glens replying ; 
Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. 



334 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

love, they die in yon rich sky ; 

They faint on hill or field or river. 
Our echoes roll from soul to soul, 
And grow forever and forever. 
Blow, bugle, blow ; set the wild echoes flying ; 
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying. 

Notes and Questions 

This song is one of the most perfect specimens of Tennyson's lyrical 
art. It was a favorite with him for reading aloud. The rhythm of the 
poem was suggested to Tennyson by the echoes of a boatman's bugle on 
the Lakes of Killarney, Ireland, one gorgeous evening at sunset. The 
theme of the poem is the influence of our deeds upon those about us, an 
influence which is ever increasing, while the echoes of nature die away. 

1. The castle referred to in the first line is Ross Castle on Ross Island 
in the Lower Lake. The most famous echo of this region is from Eagle's 
Nest in the Upper Lake. Eind a picture of an old castle which you think 
was similar to that mentioned in the poem. 

2. The snowy summits referred to in line 2 were not literally "snowy." 
About these mountains are clustered innumerable tales of legendary 
heroes ; read aloud the words which tell you this fact. 

3. Find the two lines that express the heart of the poem. The echoes 
of the bugle die ; what becomes of our words and actions ? Can you give 
an illustration from your school experience of the fact that a good 
example is contagious ? 

4. What words in the poem are particularly expressive? Notice how 
the choice of words, the varied and interesting rimes, and the alliteration 
all contribute to the music of the poem. Read again the note about 
"The Lyric," page 55, and then tell why this poem is called a lyric. 

5. It is interesting to notice that Bryant in "To a Waterfowl" (page 
53), and Tennyson in this poem follow the same plan — first stating a 
fact and then following with an interpretation of it, beautifully 
expressed. Read aloud these two poems to discover the fact in each 
poem and state it in clear, concise English. 

6. Which poem do you think has the more pleasing rhythm? Which 
poem do you like better? Select lines from the poem of your choice to 
memorize and recite to the class. 



IF 

Rudyard Kipling 

If you can keep your head when all about you 

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you; 
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, 

But make allowance for their doubting, too ; 
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting ; 

Or, being lied about, don 't deal in lies ; 
Or, being hated, don 't give way to hating ; 

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise ; 

If you can dream — and not make dreams your master; 

If you can think — and not make thoughts your aim ; 
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster, 

And treat these two impostors just the same ; 
If you can bear to hear the truth you 've spoken 

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools ; 
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, 

And stoop and build them up with worn-out tools ; 

If you can make one heap of all your winnings 

And risk it on the turn of pitch and toss, 
And lose, and start again at your beginnings 

And never breathe a word about your loss ; 
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew 

To serve your turn long after they are gone, 
And so hold on when there is nothing in you 

Except the will which says to them : ' ' Hold on ' ' ; 

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, 
Or walk with kings — nor lose the common touch ; 
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you ; 
335 



336 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

If all men count with you, but none too much ; 
If you can fill the unforgiving minute 

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, 
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, 

And — which is more — you '11 be a Man, my son. 

Notes and Questions 

Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936) was born in Bombay, India, where his 
father, an Englishman, was director of the art school. At the age of 
six the boy was sent to England to be educated. Until he was thirteen 
Kipling studied with private tutors, and then entered Westward Ho, 
a boarding-school in Devonshire, attended for the most part by the sons 
of British officials abroad. There the young Kipling's genius for writing 
soon showed itself to such a degree that he was made editor of the school 
paper, to which he contributed much original work. 

Among Kipling's best-known prose works, in addition to the two 
Jungle Books, are Just So Stories, Soldiers Three, Kim, and The Day's 
Work. Of his verse, the poems about the British soldier, Tommy Atkins, 
in Barrack-Room Ballads, have a ring and a movement that suggest the 
old days when the song writer was a man of action, living the adventures 
that he celebrated in verse. 

1. Which of these "If's" seem to you especially difficult to practice? 
Notice how in the first two examples the conditions are made doubly 
difficult by the additions, "and blaming it on you" and "But make 
allowance for their doubting, too." What is better than looking good and 
talking wise? 

2. What does Kipling imply should be the aim of dreaming and think- 
ing? How does he regard Triumph and Disaster? Can you give an 
instance in which victory proved disastrous, or one in which disaster was 
turned into triumph? 

3. Which "If" embodies advice especially good for athletes? Choose 
the lines that you think would make a motto for you to follow when a 
difficult task is before you. Choose the lines which would help you to 
become a good loser. 

4. How might "loving friends" hurt one? Which "If" suggests mak- 
ing good use of one's time ? Do you believe the reward is worth striving 
for ? Give reasons for your answer. Recall to mind the "Golden Rule" ; 
in which lines of this poem does Kipling suggest the same idea? 



YUSSOUF 

James Russell. Lowell 

A stranger came one night to Yussouf 's tent, 

Saying, "Behold one outcast and in dread, 

Against whose life the bow of power is bent, 

Who flies, and hath not where to lay his head ; 

I come to thee for shelter and for food — 

To Yussouf, called through all our tribes, ' The Good. 

1 ' This tent is mine, ' ' said Yussouf, ' ' but no more 

Than it is God's ; come in, and be at peace ; 

Freely shalt thou partake of all my store 

As I of His who buildeth over these 

Our tents His glorious roof of night and day, 

And at whose door none ever yet heard ' Nay. ' ' ' 

So Yussouf entertained his guest that night, 
And, waking him ere day, said : ' ' Here is gold ; 
My swiftest horse is saddled for thy flight ; 
Depart before the prying day grow bold. ' ' 
As one lamp lights another, nor grows less, 
So nobleness enkindleth nobleness. 

That inward light the stranger's face made grand, 
Which shines from all self -conquest ; kneeling low, 
He bowed his forehead upon Yussouf 's hand, 
Sobbing : " Sheik, I cannot leave thee so ; 
I will repay thee ; all this thou hast done 
Unto that Ibrahim who slew thy son ! ' ' 
337 




338 



YUSSOUF 339 

1 * Take thrice the gold, ' ' said Yussouf , ' ' for with thee 

Into the desert, never to return, 

My one black thought shall ride away from me. 

First-born, for whom by day and night I yearn, 

Balanced and just are all of God 's decrees ; 

Thou art avenged, my first-born ; sleep in peace ! ' ' 

Notes and Questions 

James Russell Lowell (1819-1891) came from one of the oldest and 
most influential Puritan families of New England. He was born in an 
atmosphere of learning, in the old family house at Cambridge, Massa- 
chusetts ; and he spent most of his lifetime in his birthplace. Naturally 
the young Lowell entered Harvard College and enjoyed every advantage 
for culture that inherited tastes, ample means, and convenient opportu- 
nity could offer him. 

After leaving college, Lowell studied law and opened an office in 
Boston. The legal profession, however, had no charms for him, and it was 
soon given up for literature. When he was twenty-one, he published his 
first volume of poetry. A few years later, having become deeply inter- 
ested in the political issues of the times, he wrote a series of brilliant and 
witty poems, The Biglow Papers, expressing his views. These made him 
well known and popular. 

When Lowell was thirty-six, he succeeded the poet Longfellow as pro- 
fessor of modern languages at Harvard College, a position he held for 
over twenty years. This was a busy time for him. In addition to his 
teaching, he became the first editor of the Atlantic Monthly and wrote 
many essays and poems of a high order. Lowell stands out today as or^ 
of America's greatest literary men. 

1. Into which two lines is the thought of the poem condensed? Sum- 
marize the thought of the poem in your own words. 

2. Where do you think the scene of this poem is laid? Give reasons 
for your answer. Why did the stranger come to Yussouf 's tent ? Read 
aloud the lines in which he describes his condition. 

3. How does Yussouf make the stranger feel welcome ? What evidence 
do you find in this poem to show that Yussouf deserved his title "The 
Good"? 



340 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

4. What light does stanza four throw upon the character of the 
stranger? What was the one black thought of Yussouf ? How did the 
confession of the stranger affect him ? How did Yussouf avenge his son ? 

5. Contrast the feelings of the stranger on coming to Yussouf and on 
leaving him. What change took place in the feelings of Yussouf as a 
result of the stranger's visit? Contrast the effects of Yussouf 's charity 
upon the stranger and upon himself. What was Yussouf 's most chari- 
table act? 

6. Give examples from your own experience to show that charity 
brings joy to the giver. What institutions in your community are made 
possible through charity? What opportunities do you have in your 
school to be charitable toward others? In your home? 

7. Make a special report on one of these topics: 

(a) A true incident I know in which good was returned for evil. 

(b) A story I have read in which good was returned for evil. 



A MAN'S A MAN FOR A' 1 THAT 
Robert Burns 

Is there, 2 for honest poverty, 

That hings 3 his head, an ' a ' that ? 
The coward slave, we pass him by — 

We dare be poor for a' that ! 
For a' that, an' a' that, 

Our toils obscure, an ' a ' that ; 
The rank is but the guinea 's stamp ; 

The man 's the gowd 4 for a ' that. 

What though on namely fare we dine, 

Wear hoddin 5 gray, an' a' that? 
Gie 6 fools their silks, and knaves their wine — 

i a% all * gowd, gold 

2 Is there, is there a man 5 hoddin, coarse woolen cloth 

3 hings, hangs 6 Gie, give 



A MAN'S A MAN FOR A' THAT 341 

A man 's a man for a ' that. 
For a ' that, an ' a ' that, 

Their tinsel show, an ' a ' that, 
The honest man, tho ' e 'er sae 1 poor, 

Is king o ' men for a ' that. 

Ye see yon birkie, ca 'd 2 a lord, 

Wha struts, an' stares, an' a' that; 
Tho ' hundreds worship at his word, 

He 's but a coof 3 for a ' that. 
For a' that, an' a' that, 

His ribband, 4 star, an' a' that, 
The man o' independent mind, 

He looks an ' laughs at a ' that. 

A prince can mak a belted knight, 

A marquis, duke, an' a' that; 
But an honest man 's aboon 5 his might — 

Guid 6 faith, he mauna fa ' T that ! 
For a' that, an' a' that, 

Their dignities, an' a' that, 
The pith o' sense an' pride o' worth 

Are higher rank than a ' that. 

Then let us pray that come it may 

(As come it will for a' that), 
That sense and worth, o 'er a ' the earth, 

Shall bear the gree, 8 an ' a ' that. 
For a ' that, an ' a ' that, 

It 's coming yet for a ' that, 
That man to man, the world o'er, 

Shall brothers be for a' that. 



i sae, so 5 aboon, above 

2 birkie. ca'd, fellow, called 6 Guid, good 

s coof, fool 7 mauna fa% must not claim 

* ribband, ribbon 8 gree, prize 



342 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Notes and Questions 

Robert Burns (1759-1796) was a Scottish poet, whose home was near 
Ayr in Scotland. He was the eldest of seven children ; his father was a 
farmer, and a "very poor man." Burns went to school in his native vil- 
lage, where he received training in the elements of style in prose and 
verse. 

The soul of the peasant class reveals itself in the simple music of 
Burns's songs, with the rich humor and the irresistible melody learned 
from the popular ballads of his native land. It has been said that "Poetry 
comes from the heart and goes to the heart"; this is true of Burns's 
poetry, which has that "heartfelt and broadly human quality which pene- 
trates where more cultured verse sometimes fails." 

Burns was a strong believer in equal rights for everyone. He felt 
no envy to those who were accounted great, but glorified in the privilege 
of being himself independent. His poem "A Man's a Man for A' That" 
expresses the same idea of equality that we find in our Declaration of 
Independence. 

1. When Robert Burns wrote this poem, he was struggling against 
the direst poverty. Read the lines which tell you that in spite of his 
hardships he believed that honest poverty and an independent mind are 
greater than rank or wealth. 

2. What characteristics has the man that Burns believes to be a king 
among men 1 ? Explain the meaning of lines 7-8. What other selection 
have you read in this unit that brings to you a similar message ? 

3. Which stanza of this poem did you find most interesting"? Give 
the thought of each stanza in a clear and concise statement. 

4. Burns, the humble poet, made the world happier and better through 
his poems of brotherhood and love ; how does he exemplify the spirit of 
democracy? Why do you think men treasure this poem and will not let 
it die? 



DEFINITION OF A GENTLEMAN 

Cardinal Newman 

It is almost a definition of a gentleman to say he is one who 
never inflicts pain. This description is both refined and, as far 
as it goes, accurate. He is mainly occupied in merely removing 
the obstacles which hinder the free and unembarrassed action of 
those about him; and he concurs with their movements rather 
than takes the initiative himself. His benefits may be considered 
as parallel to what are called comforts or conveniences in arrange- 
ments of a personal nature — like an easy-chair or a good fire, 
which do their part in dispelling cold and fatigue, though nature 
provides both means of rest and animal heat without them. The 
true gentleman in like manner carefully avoids whatever may 
cause a jar or a jolt in the minds of those with whom he is cast — 
all clashing of opinion, or collision of feeling, all restraint, or 
suspicion, or gloom, or resentment; his great concern being to 
make everyone at his ease and at home. He has his eyes on all 
his company ; he is tender toward the bashful, gentle toward the 
distant, and merciful toward the absurd; he can recollect to 
whom he is speaking ; he guards against unseasonable allusions, 
or topics which may irritate; he is seldom prominent in con- 
versation, and never wearisome. He makes light of favors while 
he does them, and seems to be receiving when he is conferring. 
He never speaks of himself except when compelled ; never defends 
himself by a mere retort. He has no ears for slander or gossip ; 
is scrupulous in imputing motives to those who interfere with 
him; and interprets everything for the best. He is never mean 
or little in his disputes; never takes unfair advantage; never 
mistakes personalities or sharp sajdngs for arguments; or in- 
sinuates evil which he dare not say out. From a long-sighted 
prudence he observes the maxim of the ancient sage, that we 

343 



344 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

should ever conduct ourselves toward our enemy as if he were 
one day to be our friend. He has too much good sense to be 
affronted at insults; he is too well employed to remember in- 
juries; and too indolent to bear malice. He is patient, forbear- 
ing, and resigned, on philosophical principles; he submits to 
pain because it is inevitable, to bereavement because it is ir- 
reparable, and to death because it is his destiny. If he engages 
in controversy of any kind, his disciplined intellect preserves him 
from the blundering discourtesy of better, perhaps, but less 
educated minds ; who, like blunt weapons, tear and hack instead 
of cutting clean, who mistake the point in argument, waste their 
strength on trifles, misconceive their adversary, and leave the 
question more involved than they find it. He may be right or 
wrong in his opinion, but he is too clear-headed to be unjust; 
he is as simple as he is forcible, and as brief as he is decisive. 
Nowhere shall we find greater candor, consideration, indulgence : 
he throws himself into the minds of his opponents ; he accounts 
for their mistakes. He knows the weakness of human reason as 
well as its strength, its province, and its limits. 

Notes and Questions 

John Henry Newman (1801-1890), a distinguished clergyman, was 
born in London. He was graduated from Trinity College, Oxford, and 
became noted as a scholar and a preacher. In 1879 he was made a Cardi- 
nal. This selection is taken from his book, The Idea of a University. 
Cardinal Newman is well known as the author of the familiar hymn, 
"Lead, Kindly Light," which he wrote while on a sea voyage. 

1. Make a list of five suggestions gained from Cardinal Newman 
which you resolve to put into practice, choosing the ones that apply 
especially to you; keep this list before you and check up on yourself. 
(Similar means were used by Washington and Franklin to improve 
their manners.) 

2. Make a list of undesirable qualities mentioned by Cardinal Newman. 
Which one of these have you discovered in yourself — or in others — 
that you have determined to make war against 1 ? 



CREEDS 345 

3. What useful hints have you gained for making and preserving 
friendships, and for the treatment of enemies'? 

4. Memorize and apply Tennyson's lines: 

"For manners are not idle, but the fruit 
Of loyal nature and of noble mind." 

5. Have you observed in your school social affairs that everyone has 
a good time when all the boys and girls "have eyes on all the company," 
instead of separating into cliques? 

6. Find in the Glossary the meaning and pronunciation of: concurs, 
initiative, insinuate, indolent, irreparable, misconceive, candor. 

7. The meaning of these phrases may not be entirely clear to you. If 
not, look them up in the Glossary : 

unseasonable allusions (p. 343) philosophical principles (p. 344) 

imputing motives to (p. 343) disciplined intellect (p. 344) 



CREEDS 

GIVE YOUR ALL 

Elbert Hubbard 

If you work for a man, in heaven's name work for him. If 
he pays wages that supply you your bread and butter, work for 
him, speak well of him, think well of him, stand by him, and 
stand by the institution he represents. I think if I worked for 
a man, I would work for him. I would not work for him a part 
of his time, but all of his time. I would give an undivided service, 
or none. If put to a pinch, an ounce of loyalty is worth a pound 
of cleverness. 

If you must vilify, condemn, and eternally disparage, resign 
your position ; and when you are outside, complain to your heart 's 
content. But, I pray you, so long as you are a part of the institu- 
tion, do not condemn it. Not that you will injure the institution — 
not that — but when you disparage the concern of which you are 
a part, you disparage yourself. 



346 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

RULES FOR THE ROAD 
Edwin Markham 

Stand straight : 

Step firmly, throw your weight ; 

The heaven is high above your head ; 

The good gray road is faithful to your tread. 

Be strong : 

Sing to your heart a battle song ; 
Though hidden f oemen lie in wait, 
Something is in you that can smile at Fate. 

Press through : 

Nothing can harm if you are true ; 

And when the night comes, rest ; 

The earth is friendly as a mother's breast. 



THE FOOTPATH TO PEACE 
Henry van Dyke 

To be glad of life, because it gives you the chance to love and 
to work and to play and to look up at the stars ; to be contented 
with your possessions, but not satisfied with yourself until you 
have made the best of them; to despise nothing in the world 
except falsehood and meanness, and to fear nothing except cow- 
ardice ; to be governed by your admirations rather than by your 
disgusts; to covet nothing that is your neighbor's except his 
kindness of heart and gentleness of manners; to think seldom 
of your enemies, often of your friends, and every day of Christ ; 
and to spend as much time as you can, with body and with 
spirit, in God's out-of-doors — these are little guideposts on the 
footpath to peace. 



CREEDS 347 

Notes and Questions 

1. Give the main thought or theme of each of these creeds. Which 
creed do you think is the most helpful? Memorize the creed that you 
like best. 

2. The thought of the first stanza of "Rules for the Road" may well be 
expressed by the word self-reliance. Suggest suitable words to express 
the thought of each of the other stanzas. 

3. Which of the "little guideposts on the footpath to peace" are most 
helpful to you 1 ? 

4. Study "Definition of a Gentleman," and then make a code of con- 
duct for yourself, as suggested on page 344. Indicate the lines in the 
text that deal with each particular item included in your creed, so that 
reference may be made to the author's own words, and the passages 
readily located for purposes of oral reading; for example, "I will not 
inflict pain" (page 343, lines 1-2). 



A BACKWABD LOOK 

Ever since the world began, liberty-loving men have 
fought to win freedom for themselves and for those 
that come after them — a heritage through all the ages that 
a good citizen appreciates. On the occasion of the one- 
hundredth anniversary of Washington's birth, Daniel 
Webster traced the growth of political freedom through the 
century from 1732 to 1832. Name historical events which 
an orator may stress at the celebration of Washington's 
two-hundredth anniversary, February 22, 1932. 

You have discovered, no doubt, that history, which deals 
with a record of facts, appeals to your understanding, while 
literature, which takes the facts of history and treats them 
with imagination, appeals particularly to your feelings. 
Compare the poet's treatment of Paul Revere 's ride with 
the historian's. Discuss in class which method, the literary 
or the historic, is the more likely to inspire noble conduct. 

Boys and girls have daily opportunities to render indi- 
vidual service; what opportunities for organized service 
does the Junior Red Cross offer? The Camp Fire Girls? 
The Boy Scouts and the Girl Scouts ? What part does your 
school take in these organizations ? What five examples of 
good citizenship in everyday life have we in the story of 
the Northfield high school ? What great service to mankind 
did Steinmetz render ? Pasteur % Name other scientists and 
inventors who have served mankind. What fine expression 
of his feeling for a great sacrifice did Lincoln make ? 

Read again what is said about lyrics (page 55), and note 
that brotherhood of man and patriotism are also favorite 
themes for lyric poets. Name four lyrics in this Part and 
the author of each. 

348 



PART FOUR 

LITERATURE AND LIFE 
IN THE HOMELAND 




TO MY COUNTRY* 

MARGUERITE WILKINSON 

Beams from your forest built my little home, 

And stones from your deep quarries flagged my hearth ; 

Your streams have rippled swiftly in my blood, 

Your fertile acres made my flesh for me, 

And your clean-blowing winds have been my breath. 

Your prophets saw the visions of my youth, 

The dreams you gave have been my dearest dreams, 

And you have been the mother of my soul. 

Therefore, my country, take again at need 

Your excellent gifts, home, hearth, and flesh and blood. 

Young dreams and all the good I am or have, 

That all your later children may have peace 

In little homes built of your wood and stone 

And warmed and lighted by the love of man ! 

♦Reprinted by courtesy of The Forum 



349 



AMERICA'S OWN LITERATURE 

Americans have a double literary heritage. Because our 
> native tongue is English, we can, without learning a 
foreign language, read Shakespeare and Browning and 
Dickens and Alfred Noyes just as we have done in the pre- 
ceding pages of this book. What it means to be able to read 
English literature without learning a new language, any 
Frenchman, who must struggle with our difficult tongue in 
order to read Shakespeare, can tell us. 

Great as English literature is, it can never take for us 
the place of the work of our own writers. America has a 
younger literature than England ; it is less rich and varied, 
but it is a growing literature, to which many different 
minds are contributing today. 

To read what well-informed Americans have written 
about our country is one of the best means of knowing our 
nation and its people. History and geography furnish us 
facts about the United States; literature inspires in us 
greater love and understanding of our fellow-citizens. 

A New England farmhouse of nearly a century ago, a 
beautiful Southern river, a modern steel mill, an up-to-date 
wheat ranch, nights with two famous aviators, and many 
other scenes of American life will furnish abundant oppor- 
tunity to make mental pictures as you read the selections in 
"Literature and Life in the Homeland.' ' 

You will be more proud of America than ever before 
when you have finished reading these pages. America will 
soon be yours. It will be largely your responsibility to 
make of it the kind of country you wish it to be. 



350 



SONG OF THE CHATTAHOOCHEE* 
Sidney Lanier 

Out of the hills of Habersham, 

Down the valleys of Hall, 
I hurry amain to reach the plain, 
Run the rapid and leap the fall, 
Split at the rock and together again, 
Accept my bed, or narrow or wide, 
And flee from folly on every side 
With a lover's pain to attain the plain 

Far from the hills of Habersham, 

Far from the valleys of Hall. 

All down the hills of Habersham, 

All through the valleys of Hall, 
The rushes cried, ' ' Abide, abide ' ' ; 
The willful water-weeds held me thrall ; 
The laving laurel turned my tide; 
The ferns and the fondling grass said, " Stay " ; 
The dewberry dipped for to work delay ; 
And the little reeds sighed, ' ' Abide, abide, 

Here in the hills of Habersham, 

Here in the valleys of Hall." 

High o'er the hills of Habersham, 

Veiling the valleys of Hall, 
The hickory told me manifold 
Fair tales of shade ; the poplar tall 
Wrought me her shadowy self to hold ; 
The chestnut, the oak, the walnut, the pine, 
Overleaning, with flickering meaning and sign, 

♦Prom Poems of Sidney Lanier, copyright 1884, 1891, by Mary D. Lanier 
published by Charles Scribner's Sons. 

351 



352 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Said : ' ' Pass not so cold, these manifold 
Deep shades of the hills of Habersham, 
These glades in the valleys of Hall. ' ' 

And oft in the hills of Habersham, 

And oft in the valleys of Hall, 
The white quartz shone, and the smooth brook stone 
Did bar me of passage with friendly brawl ; 
And many a luminous jewel lone 
(Crystals clear or acloud with mist, 
Ruby, garnet, or amethyst) 
Made lures with the lights of streaming stone 

In the clefts of the hills of Habersham, 

In the beds of the valleys of Hall. 

But oh! not the hills of Habersham, 
And oh ! not the valleys of Hall 
Avail ; I am fain for to water the plain. 
Downward the voices of Duty call — 
Downward, to toil and be mixed with the main, 
The dry fields burn, and the mills are to turn, 
And a myriad flowers mortally yearn, 
And the lordly main from beyond the plain 
Calls o'er the hills of Habersham, 
Calls through the valleys of Hall. 

Notes and Questions 
For a biographical note on Sidney Lanier, see page 57. 

1. In this poem the river is represented as talking; in which line of 
the first stanza does it tell its purpose ? In which line of the last stanza 
does it tell why it holds to this purpose ? 

2. Which lines show that the river intended to give itself in service 
to others when it reached the plain ? Do you think the poet is drawing 
a parallel between the Chattahoochee and life? 

3. If the poet, in the second stanza, may have had in mind the small 
delights that make for contentment, what may he have had in mind in 
the third? In the fourth? 

4. Find the meaning of: amain, thrall, laving, manifold, lures, avail. 



SNOW-BOUND 

A WINTER IDYLL 

John G. Whittier 

You will enjoy this poem more if you turn to page 375 and read 
Whittier's own introduction to "Snow-Bound" before you begin to read 
the poem. 

The sun that brief December day 

Rose cheerless over hills of gray, 

And, darkly circled, gave at noon 

A sadder light than waning moon. 

Slow tracing down the thickening sky 

Its mute and ominous prophecy, 

A portent seeming less than threat, 

It sank from sight before it set. 

A chill no coat, however stout, 

Of homespun stuff could quite shut out, 

A hard, dull bitterness of cold, 

That checked, mid-vein, the circling race 

Of lif eblood in the sharpened face, 

The coming of the snowstorm told. 

The wind blew east ; we heard the roar 

Of Ocean on his wintry shore, 

And felt the strong pulse throbbing there 

Beat with low rhythm our inland air. 

Meanwhile we did our nightly chores — 
Brought in the wood from out of doors, 
Littered the stalls, and from the mows 
Raked down the herd's-grass for the cows; 
Heard the horse whinnying for his corn, 
And, sharply clashing horn on horn, 
353 



354 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Impatient down the stanchion rows 
The cattle shake their walnut bows ; 
While, peering from his early perch 
Upon the scaffold 's pole of birch, 
The cock his crested helmet bent 
And down his querulous challenge sent. 

Unwarmed by any sunset light 

The gray day darkened into night, 

A night made hoary with the swarm 

And whirl-dance of the blinding storm, 

As zigzag wavering to and fro 

Crossed and recrossed the winged snow ; 

And ere the early bedtime came, 

The white drift piled the window frame, 

And through the glass the clothesline posts 

Looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts. 

So all night long the storm roared on ; 

The morning broke without a sun ; 

In tiny spherule traced with lines 

Of Nature 's geometric signs, 

In starry flake and pellicle, 

All day the hoary meteor fell ; 

And, when the second morning shone, 

We looked upon a world unknown, 

On nothing we could call our own. 

Around the glistening wonder bent 

The blue walls of the firmament, 

No cloud above, no earth below — 

A universe of sky and snow! 

The old familiar sights of ours 

Took marvelous shapes ; strange domes and towers 

Rose up where sty or corncrib stood, 

Or garden-wall or belt of wood ; 

A smooth white mound the brush-pile showed, 

A fenceless drift what once was road ; 



SNOW-BOUND 



355 



?*23EJi 




The bridle-post an old man sat 
With loose-flung coat and high cocked hat 
The well-curb had a Chinese roof ; 
And even the long sweep, high aloof, 
In its slant splendor, seemed to tell 
Of Pisa's leaning miracle. 



A prompt, decisive man, no breath 
Our father wasted : ' ' Boys, a path ! ' ' 
Well pleased (for when did farmer boy 
Count such a summons less than joy?), 
Our buskins on our feet we drew ; 
With mittened hands, and caps drawn low 
To guard our necks and ears from snow, 
We cut the solid whiteness through ; 
And, where the drift was deepest, made 
A tunnel walled and overlaid 
With dazzling crystal ; we had read 



356 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Of rare Aladdin 's wondrous cave, 
And to our own his name we gave, 
With many a wish the luck were ours 
To test his lamp 's supernal powers. 
We reached the barn with merry din, 
And roused the prisoned brutes within. 
The old horse thrust his long head out, 
And grave with wonder gazed about ; 
The cock his lusty greeting said, 
And forth his speckled harem led ; 
The oxen lashed their tails, and hooked, 
And mild reproach of hunger looked ; 
The horned patriarch of the sheep, 
Like Egypt's Amun roused from sleep, 
Shook his sage head with gesture mute, 
And emphasized with stamp of foot. 

All day the gusty north wind bore 
The loosened drift its breath before ; 
Low circling round its southern zone, 
The sun through dazzling snow-mist shone. 
No church-bell lent its Christian tone 
To the savage air ; no social smoke 
Curled over woods of snow-hung oak — 
A solitude made more intense 
By dreary-voiced elements, 
The shrieking of the mindless wind, 
The moaning tree-boughs swaying blind, 
Beyond the circle of our hearth 
And on the glass the unmeaning beat 
Of ghostly finger-tips of sleet. 
No welcome sound of toil or mirth 
Unbound the spell, and testified 
Of human life and thought outside. 
We minded that the sharpest ear 
The buried brooklet could not hear, 



SNOW-BOUND 357 

The music of whose liquid lip 
Had been to us companionship, 
And, in our lonely life, had grown 
To have an almost human tone. 

As night drew on, and, from the crest 
Of wooded knolls that ridged the west, 
The sun, a snow-blown traveler, sank 
From sight beneath the smothering bank, 
We piled with care our nightly stack 
Of wood against the chimney-back — 
The oaken log, green, huge, and thick, 
And on its top the stout backstick ; 
The knotty forestick laid apart, 
And filled between with curious art 
The ragged brush; then, hovering near, 
We watched the first red blaze appear, 
Heard the sharp crackle, caught the gleam 
On whitewashed wall and sagging beam, 
Until the old, rude-furnished room 
Burst, flower-like, into rosy bloom ; 
While radiant with a mimic flame 
Outside the sparkling drift became ; 
And through the bare-boughed lilac-tree 
Our own warm hearth seemed blazing free. 
The crane and pendent trammels showed ; 
The Turks' heads on the andirons glowed; 
While childish fancy, prompt to tell 
The meaning of the miracle, 
Whispered the old rime : "Under the tree, 
When fire outdoors burns merrily, 
There the witches are making tea." 

The moon above the eastern wood 
Shone at its full ; the hill-range stood 
Transfigured in the silver flood, 



358 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Its blown snows flashing cold and keen, 
Dead white, save where some sharp ravine 
Took shadow, or the somber green 
Of hemlocks turned to pitchy black 
Against the whiteness at their back. 
For such a world and such a night 
Most fitting that unwarming light, 
Which only seemed where 'er it fell 
To make the coldness visible. 

Shut in from all the world without, 
We sat the clean- winged hearth about. 
Content to let the north wind roar 
In baffled rage at pane and door, 
While the red logs before us beat 
The frost-line back with tropic heat ; 
And ever, when a louder blast 
Shook beam and rafter as it passed, 
The merrier up its roaring draft 
The great throat of the chimney laughed ; 
The house-dog on his paws outspread 
Laid to the fire his drowsy head; 
The cat's dark silhouette on the wall 
A couchant tiger's seemed to fall; 
And, for the winter fireside meet, 
Between the andirons' straddling feet, 
The mug of cider simmered slow ; 
The apples sputtered in a row; 
And, close at hand, the basket stood 
With nuts from brown October's wood. 

What matter how the night behaved ? 
What matter how the north wind raved? 
Blow high, blow low, not all its snow 
Could quench our hearth-fire's ruddy glow. 
Time and Change! — with hair as gray 



SNOW-BOUND 359 

As was my sire's that winter day, 

How strange it seems, with so much gone 

Of life and love, to still live on ! 

Ah, brother ! only I and thou 

Are left of all that circle now — 

The dear home faces whereupon 

That fitful firelight paled and shone. 

Henceforward, listen as we will, 

The voices of that hearth are still ; 

Look where we may, the wide earth o 'er, 

Those lighted faces smile no more. 

We tread the paths their feet have worn ; 

We sit beneath their orchard trees ; 

We hear, like them, the hum of bees 
And rustle of the bladed corn ; 
We turn the pages that they read ; 

Their written words we linger o 'er ; 
But in the sun they cast no shade ; 
No voice is heard, no sign is made ; 

No step is on the conscious floor ! 
Yet Love will dream and Faith will trust 
(Since He who knows our need is just) 
That somehow, somewhere, meet we must. 
Alas for him who never sees 
The stars shine through his cypress-trees ! 
Who, hopeless, lays his dead away, 
Nor looks to see the breaking day 
Across the mournful marbles play ! 
Who hath not learned, in hours of faith, 

The truth to flesh and sense unknown, 
That Life is ever lord of Death, 

And Love can never lose its own ! 

We sped the time with stories old ; 
Wrought puzzles out, and riddles told ; 
Or stammered from our schoolbook lore 



360 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

"The Chief of Gambia's Golden Shore." 
Our father rode again his ride 
On Memphremagog's wooded side; 
Sat down again to moose and samp 
In trapper 's hut and Indian camp ; 
Lived o'er the old idyllic ease 
Beneath St. Francois' hemlock trees; 
Again for him the moonlight shone 
On Norman cap and bodiced zone ; 
Again he heard the violin play 
Which led the village dance away, 
And mingled in its merry whirl 
The grandam and the laughing girl. 
Or, nearer home, our steps he led 
Where Salisbury's level marshes spread 

Mile-wide as flies the laden bee ; 
Where merry mowers, hale and strong, 
Swept, scythe on scythe, their swaths along 

The low green prairies of the sea. 
We shared the fishing off Boar 's Head, 

And round the rocky Isles of Shoals 

The hake-broil on the driftwood coals ; 
The chowder on the sand-beach made, 
Dipped by the hungry, steaming hot, 
With spoons of clamshell from the pot. 
We heard the tales of witchcraft old, 
And dream and sign and marvel told 
To sleepy listeners as they lay 
Stretched idly on the salted hay, 
Adrift along the winding shores, 
When favoring breezes deigned to blow 
The square sail of the gundalow, 
And idle lay the useless oars. 

Our mother, while she turned her wheel 
Or ran the new-knit stocking-heel, 



SNOW-BOUND 361 

Told how the Indian hordes came down 
At midnight on Cochecho town, 
And how her own great-uncle bore 
His cruel scalp -mark to fourscore. 
Recalling, in her fitting phrase, 

So rich and picturesque and free 

(The common unrimed poetry 
Of simple life and country ways) , 
The story of her early days — 
She made us welcome to her home ; 
Old hearths grew wide to give us room ; 
We stole with her a frightened look 
At the gray wizard's conjuring-book, 
The fame whereof went far and wide 
Through all the simple countryside ; 
We heard the hawks at twilight play 
The boat-horn on Piscataqua, 
The loon 's weird laughter far away ; 
We fished her little trout-brook ; knew 
What flowers in wood and meadow grew ; 
What sunny hillsides autumn-brown 
She climbed to shake the ripe nuts down ; 
Saw where in sheltered cove and bay 
The duck 's black squadron anchored lay ; 
And heard the wild geese calling loud 
Beneath the gray November cloud. 

Then, haply, with a look more grave, 
And soberer tone, some tale she gave 
From painful Sewel's ancient tome, 
Beloved in every Quaker home, 
Of faith fire-winged by martyrdom, 
Or Chalkley's Journal, old and quaint — 
Gentlest of skippers, rare sea-saint ! — 
Who, when the dreary calms prevailed, 
And water-butt and bread-cask failed, 



362 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

And cruel, hungry eyes pursued 

His portly presence, mad for food, 

With dark hints muttered under breath 

Of casting lots for life or death, 

Offered, if Heaven withheld supplies, 

To be himself the sacrifice. 

Then, suddenly, as if to save 

The good man from his living grave, 

A ripple on the water grew ; 

A school of porpoise flashed in view. 

1 ' Take, eat, ' ' he said, ' ' and be content ; 

These fishes in my stead are sent 

By Him who gave the tangled ram 

To spare the child of Abraham." 

Our uncle, innocent of books, 

Was rich in lore of fields and brooks, 

The ancient teachers never dumb 

Of Nature 's unhoused lyceum. 

In moons and tides and weather wise, 

He read the clouds as prophecies; 

And foul or fair could well divine 

By many an occult hint and sign, 

Holding the cunning-warded keys 

To all the woodcraft mysteries ; 

Himself to Nature 's heart so near 

That all her voices in his ear 

Of beast or bird had meaning clear, 

Like Apollonius of old, 

Who knew the tales the sparrows told, 

Or Hermes, who interpreted 

What the sage cranes of Nilus said ; 

A simple, guileless, childlike man, 

Content to live where life began ; 

Strong only on his native grounds, 

The little world of sights and sounds 



SNOW-BOUND 363 

Whose girdle was the parish bounds, 

Whereof his fondly partial pride 
The common features magnified, 
As Surrey hills to mountains grew 
In White of Selborne 's loving view — 
He told how teal and loon he shot, 
And how the eagle 's eggs he got ; 
The feats on pond and river done, 
The prodigies of rod and gun ; 
Till, warming with the tales he told, 
Forgotten was the outside cold; 
The bitter wind unheeded blew ; 
From ripening corn the pigeons flew ; 
The partridge drummed i' the wood; the mink 
Went fishing down the river-brink. 
In fields with bean or clover gay, 
The woodchuck, like a hermit gray, 

Peered from the doorway of his cell ; 
The muskrat plied the mason 's trade, 
And tier by tier his mud-walls laid ; 
And from the shagbark overhead 

The grizzled squirrel dropped his shell. 

Next, the dear aunt, whose smile of cheer 

And voice in dreams I see and hear — 

The sweetest woman ever Fate 

Perverse denied a household mate, 

Who, lonely, homeless, not the less 

Found peace in love's unselfishness, 

And welcome whereso 'er she went, 

A calm and gracious element, 

Whose presence seemed the sweet income 

And womanty atmosphere of home — 

Called up her girlhood memories, 

The huskings and the apple-bees, 

The sleigh-rides and the summer sails, 



364 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Weaving through all the poor details 
And homespun warp of circumstance 
A golden woof -thread of romance. 
For well she kept her genial mood 
And simple faith of maidenhood ; 
Before her still a cloud-land lay; 
The mirage loomed across her way ; 
The morning dew, that dried so soon 
With others, glistened at her noon ; 
Through years of toil and soil and care, 
From glossy tress to thin gray hair, 
All unprof aned she held apart 
The virgin fancies of the heart. 
Be shame to him of woman born 
Who had for such but thought of scorn. 

There, too, our elder sister plied 
Her evening task the stand beside ; 
A full, rich nature, free to trust, 
Truthful and almost sternly just, 
Impulsive, earnest, prompt to act, 
And make her generous thought a fact, 
Keeping with many a light disguise 
The secret of self -sacrifice. 
heart sore-tried ! thou hast the best 
That Heaven itself could give thee — rest, 
Rest from all bitter thoughts and things ! 
How many a poor one 's blessing went 
With thee beneath the low green tent 
Whose curtain never outward swings ! 

As one who held herself a part 
Of all she saw, and let her heart 

Against the household bosom lean, 
Upon the motley-braided mat 
Our youngest and our dearest sat, 



SNOW-BOUND 365 

Lifting her large, sweet, asking eyes, 
Now bathed within the fadeless green 
And holy peace of Paradise. 
Oh, looking from some heavenly hill, 

Or from the shade of saintly palms, 

Or silver reach of river calms, 
Do those large eyes behold me still ¥ 
With me one little year ago — 
The chill weight of the winter snow 

For months upon her grave has lain ; 
And now, when summer south winds blow, 

And brier and harebell bloom again, 
I tread the pleasant paths we trod, 
I see the violet-sprinkled sod, 
Whereon she leaned, too frail and weak 
The hillside flowers she loved to seek, 
Yet following me where 'er I went 
With dark eyes full of love's content. 
The birds are glad ; the brier-rose fills 
The air with sweetness ; all the hills 
Stretch green to June 's unclouded sky ; 
But still I wait with ear and eye 
For something gone which should be nigh, 
A loss in all familiar things, 
In flower that blooms, and bird that sings. 
And yet, dear heart ! remembering thee, 

Am I not richer than of old? 
Safe in thy immortality, 

What change can reach the wealth I hold? 

What chance can mar the pearl and gold 
Thy love hath left in trust with me ? 
And while in life's late afternoon, 

Where cool and long the shadows grow, 
I walk to meet the night that soon 

Shall shape and shadow overflow, 
I cannot feel that thou art far, 



366 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Since near at need the angels are ; 
And when the sunset gates unbar, 

Shall I not see thee waiting stand, 
And, white against the evening star, 

The welcome of thy beckoning hand ? 

Brisk wielder of the birch and rule, 
The master of the district school 
Held at the fire his favored place ; 
Its warm glow lit a laughing face, 
Fresh-hued and fair, where scarce appeared 
The uncertain prophecy of beard. 
He teased the mitten-blinded cat, 
Played cross-pins on my uncle 's hat, 
Sang songs, and told us what befalls 
In classic Dartmouth 's college halls. 
Born the wild northern hills among, 
From whence his yeoman father wrung 
By patient toil subsistence scant, 
Not competence and yet not want, 
He early gained the power to pay 
His cheerful, self-reliant way ; 
Could doff at ease his scholar's gown 
To peddle wares from town to town; 
Or through the long vacation 's reach 
In lonely lowland districts teach, 
Where all the droll experience found 
At stranger hearths in boarding round, 
The moonlit skater's keen delight, 
The sleigh-drive through the frosty night, 
The rustic party, with its rough 
Accompaniment of blindman's buff, 
And whirling plate, and forfeits paid, 
His winter task a pastime made. 
Happy the snow-locked homes wherein 
He tuned his merry violin, 



SNOW-BOUND 367 

Or played the athlete in the barn, 
Or held the good dame 's winding yarn, 
Or mirth-provoking versions told 
Of classic legends rare and old, 
Wherein the scenes of Greece and Rome 
Had all the commonplace of home, 
And little seemed at best the odds 
'Twixt Yankee peddlers and old gods ; 
WTiere Pindus-born Araxes took 
The guise of any grist-mill brook, 
And dread Olympus at his will 
Became a huckleberry hill. 
A careless boy that night he seemed ; 

But at his desk he had the look ' 
And air of one who wisely schemed, 

And hostage from the future took 
In trained thought and lore of book. 

Another guest that winter night 

Flashed back from lustrous eyes the light. 

Unmarked by time, and yet not young, 

The honeyed music of her tongue 

And words of meekness scarcely told 

A nature passionate and bold, 

Strong, self-concentered, spurning guide, 

Its milder features dwarfed beside 

Her unbent will's majestic pride. 

She sat among us, at the best, 

A not unf eared, half -welcome guest, 

Rebuking with her cultured phrase 

Our homeliness of words and ways. 

A certain pard-like, treacherous grace 

Swayed the lithe limbs and drooped the lash, 
Lent the white teeth their dazzling flash ; 
And under low brows, black with night, 
Rayed out at times a dangerous light ; 



368 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

The sharp heat-lightnings of her face 
Presaging ill to him whom Fate 
Condemned to share her love or hate. 
A woman tropical, intense 
In thought and act, in soul and sense, 
She blended in a like degree 
The vixen and the devotee, 
Kevealing with each freak or feint 
The temper of Petruchio's Kate, 
The raptures of Siena 's saint. 
Her tapering hand and rounded wrist 
Had facile power to form a fist; 
The warm, dark languish of her eyes 
Was never safe from wrath 's surprise. 
Brows saintly calm and lips devout 
Knew every change of scowl and pout, 
And the sweet voice had notes more high 
And shrill for social battle-cry. 

Since then what old cathedral town 

Has missed her pilgrim staff and gown, 

What convent-gate has held its lock 

Against the challenge of her knock ! 

Through Smyrna's plague-hushed thoroughfares, 

Up sea-set Malta 's rocky stairs, 

Gray olive slopes of hills that hem 

Thy tombs and shrines, Jerusalem, 

Or startling on her desert-throne 

The crazy Queen of Lebanon 

With claims fantastic as her own, 

Her tireless feet have held their way ; 

And still, unrestful, bowed, and gray, 

She watches under Eastern skies, 

With hope each day renewed and fresh, 
The Lord 's quick coming in the flesh, 
Whereof she dreams and prophesies ! 



SNOW-BOUND 369 

Where'er her troubled path may be, 

The Lord 's sweet pity with her go ! 
The outward wayward life we see, 

The hidden springs we may not know. 
Nor is it given us to discern 

What threads the fatal sisters spun, 

Through what ancestral years has run 
The sorrow with the woman born, 
What forged her cruel chain of moods, 
What set her feet in solitudes, 

And held the love within her mute, 
What mingled madness in the blood, 

A lifelong discord and annoy, 

Water of tears with oil of joy, 
And hid within the folded bud 

Perversities of flower and fruit. 
It is not ours to separate 
The tangled skein of will and fate, 
To show what metes and bounds should stand 
Upon the soul's debatable land, 
And between choice and Providence 
Divide the circle of events ; 

But He who knows our frame is just, 
Merciful, and compassionate, 
And full of sweet assurances 
And hope for all the language is, 
That He remembereth we are dust ! 

At last the great logs, crumbling low, 
Sent out a dull and duller glow ; 
The bull 's-eye watch that hung in view, 
Ticking its weary circuit through, 
Pointed with mutely- warning sign 
Its black hand to the hour of nine. 
That sign the pleasant circle broke ; 
My uncle ceased his pipe to smoke, 



370 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Knocked from its bowl the refuse gray, 
And laid it tenderly away ; 
Then roused himself to safely cover 
The dull red brands with ashes over. 
And while, with care, our mother laid 
The work aside, her steps she stayed 
One moment, seeking to express 
Her grateful sense of happiness 
For food and shelter, warmth and health, 
And love's contentment more than wealth, 
With simple wishes (not the weak, 
Vain prayers which no fulfillment seek, 
But such as warm the generous heart, 
O'er-prompt to do with Heaven its part) 
That none might lack, that bitter night, 
For bread and clothing, warmth and light. 

Within our beds awhile we heard 
The wind that round the gables roared, 
With now and then a ruder shock, 
Which made our very bedsteads rock. 
We heard the loosened clapboards tossed, 
The board-nails snapping in the frost; 
And on us, through the unplastered wall, 
Felt the light-sifted snowflakes fall; 
But sleep stole on, as sleep will do 
When hearts are light and life is new; 
Faint and more faint the murmurs grew, 
Till in the summer-land of dreams 
They softened to the sound of streams, 
Low stir of leaves, and dip of oars, 
And lapsing waves on quiet shores. 

Next morn we wakened with the shout 
Of merry voices high and clear; 
And saw the teamsters drawiner near 



SNOW-BOUND 



371 





* tV:- >• ;->N 



To break the drifted highways out. 

Down the long hillside treading slow 

We saw the half -buried oxen go, 

Shaking the snow from heads uptossed, 

Their straining nostrils white with frost. 

Before our door the straggling train 

Drew up, an added team to gain. 

The elders thrashed their hands acold, 
Passed, with the cider-mug, their jokes 
From lip to lip; the younger folks 

Down the loose snow-banks, wrestling, rolled 

Then toiled again the cavalcade 



372 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

O'er windy hill, through clogged ravine, 
And woodland paths that wound between 
Low-drooping pine-boughs winter-weighed. 
From every barn a team afoot; 
At every house a new recruit; 
Where, drawn by Nature's subtlest law, 
Haply the watchful young men saw 
Sweet doorway pictures of the curls 
And curious eyes of merry girls, 
Lifting their hands in mock defense 
Against the snowballs' compliments, 
And reading in each missive tossed 
The charm which Eden never lost. 

We heard once more the sleigh-bells' sound; 

And, following where the teamsters led, 

The wise old Doctor went his round, 

Just pausing at our door to say, 

In the brief, autocratic way 

Of one who, prompt at Duty's call, 

Was free to urge her claim on all, 

That some poor neighbor sick abed 
At night our mother's aid would need. 
For, one in generous thought and deed, 

What mattered in the sufferer's sight 

The Quaker matron's inward light, 
The Doctor's mail of Calvin's creed? 
All hearts confess the saints elect 

Who, twain in faith, in love agree, 
And melt not in an acid sect 

The Christian pearl of charity ! 

So days went on; a week had passed 
Since the great world was heard from last. 
The Almanac we studied o 'er ; 



SNOW-BOUND 373 

Read and reread our little store 

Of books and pamphlets, scarce a score ; 

One harmless novel, mostly hid 

From younger eyes, a book forbid, 

And poetry (or good or bad, 

A single book was all we had), 

Where Ellwood's meek, drab-skirted Muse, 

A stranger to the heathen Nine, 

Sang, with a somewhat nasal whine, 
The wars of David and the Jews. 
At last the floundering carrier bore 
The village paper to our door. 
Lo ! broadening outward as we read, 
To warmer zones the horizon spread; 
In panoramic length unrolled 
We saw the marvel that it told. 
Before us passed the painted Creeks, 

And daft McGregor on his raids 

In Costa Rica's everglades. 
And up Taygetus winding slow 
Rode Ypsilanti's Mainote Greeks, 
A Turk's head at each saddle bow! 
Welcome to us its week-old news, 
Its corner for the rustic Muse, 
Its monthly gauge of snow and rain, 
Its record, mingling in a breath 
The wedding bell and dirge of death; 
Jest, anecdote, and lovelorn tale, 
The latest culprit sent to jail; 
Its hue and cry of stolen and lost, 
Its vendue sales and goods at cost, 

And traffic calling loud for gain. 
We felt the stir of hall and street, 
The pulse of life that round us beat; 
The chill embargo of the snow 



374 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Was melted in the genial glow; 

Wide swung again our ice-locked door, 

And all the world was ours once more ! 

Clasp, Angel of the backward look 
And folded wings of ashen gray 
And voice of echoes far away, 
The brazen covers of thy book; 
The weird palimpsest old and vast, 
WTierein thou hid'st the spectral past; 
W 7 here, closely mingling, pale and glow 
The characters of joy and woe ; 
The monographs of outlived years, 
Or smile-illumed or dim with tears, 

Green hills of life that slope to death, 
And haunts of home, whose vistaed trees 
Shade off to mournful cypresses 

With the white amaranths underneath. 
Even while I look, I can but heed 

The restless sands' incessant fall, 
Importunate hours that hours succeed ; 
Each clamorous with its own sharp need, 

And duty keeping pace with all. 
Shut down and clasp the heavy lids; 
I hear again the voice that bids 
The dreamer leave his dream midway 
For larger hopes and graver fears — 
Life greatens in these later years; 
The century's aloe flowers today! 

Yet, haply, in some lull of life, 

Some Truce of God which breaks its strife, 

The worldling's eyes shall gather dew, 

Dreaming in throngful city ways 
Of winter joys his boyhood knew; 
And dear and early friends^the few 



SNOAV-BOUND 375 

Who yet remain — shall pause to view 
These Flemish pictures of old days ; 
Sit with me by the homestead hearth, 
And stretch the hands of memory forth 

To warm them at the wood-fire 's blaze ! 
And thanks untraced to lips unknown 
Shall greet me like the odors blown 
From unseen meadows newly mown, 
Or lilies floating in some pond, . 
Wood-fringed, the wayside gaze beyond; 
The traveler owns the grateful sense 
Of sweetness near, he knows not whence, 
And, pausing, takes with forehead bare 
The benediction of the air. 

Notes and Questions 

This is Whittier's own introduction to Snow-Bound: "The members 
of the family at the Whittier homestead who are referred to in the poem 
were my father, mother, my brother, and - two sisters, and my uncle and 
aunt, both unmarried. In addition there was the district schoolmaster, 
who boarded with us. The 'not unf eared, half -welcome guest/ was Har- 
riet Livermore, daughter of Judge Livermore, of New Hampshire, a 
young woman of fine natural ability, enthusiastic, eccentric, with slight 
control over a violent temper, which sometimes made her religious pro- 
fession doubtful. She was equally ready to exhort in schoolhouse prayer 
meetings and dance in a Washington ballroom while her father was a 
member of Congress. At the time referred to in Snow-Bound, she was 
boarding at Rocks Village, about two miles from us. 

"In my boyhood, in our lonely farmhouse, we had scanty sources of 
information; few books and only a small weekly newspaper. Our only 
annual was the almanac. Under such circumstances, story-telling was a 
necessary resource in the long winter evenings. My father, when a young 
man, had traversed the wilderness to Canada, and could tell us of his 
adventures with Indians and wild beasts, and of sojourn in the French 
villages. My uncle was ready with his record of hunting and fishing, and 
it must be confessed, with stories which he at least half believed, of 
witchcraft and apparitions. My mother, who was born in the Indian- 



376 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

haunted region of Somersworth, New Hampshire, between Dover and 
Portsmouth, told us of the inroads of the savages, and of the narrow 
escape of her ancestors. She described strange people who lived on the 
Piscataqua and Cocheco, among whom was Bantam the sorcerer. I have 
in my possession the wizard's 'conjuring book,' which he solemnly opened 
when consulted." 

Whittier, after the death of his mother and two sisters, lived with his 
brother, Matthew, in the old homestead. At the age of fifty-nine he 
wrote Snow-Bound as a memorial to those who were gone and to the 
happy, peaceful home life they had always lived. He dedicated the poem 
"To the memory of the household it describes." 

1. Divide the poem into four large parts, giving a title to each. Use 
these four main headings as a beginning for an outline, and fill in with 
the details, so that you will have a complete outline to use in testing your 
knowledge of the poem. 

2. Snow-Bound has been called "a picture gallery"; select what you 
think is the most interesting word-picture and read it to the class. Your 
classmates should be able to locate in the poem the scene you have chosen. 

3. How long a period of time did the events in the poem take ? Make a 
time outline for the poem, giving quotations in support of it. 

4. 'The poet himself calls the scenes in S now-Bound "Flemish pic- 
tures" (see Glossary) ; can you give a reason for this"? Select three para- 
graphs to read aloud which graphically picture the "works and ways 
of the honest people of New England." 

5. What kind of day is described at the beginning of the poem ? Read 
aloud the lines in which the poet makes you feel the cold. List pictur- 
esque words used to describe the storm. Find the lines that tell you the 
changes the snow made in the appearance of familiar objects. 

6. Summarize in your own words the impression you get of Whittier's 
father. What leads you to think Whittier was happy in his humble sur- 
roundings ? Select lines to support your answer. What preparation did 
the boys make "as night drew on'"? Contrast the scene in Whittier's 
home with a scene in your home on a stormy evening. What kind of 
entertainment did the family enjoy on the winter's night? 

7. Characterize the mother of Whittier in three carefully chosen sen- 
tences. Explain the reference in the following lines : 

"We stole with her a frightened look 
At the gray wizard's conjuring-book." 



SNOW-BOUND 377 

What contribution was made to the evening's entertainment by "the 
dear aunt"? The uncle? 

8. What ideals of justice, brotherhood, industry, and thrift does this 
poem show were characteristics of the simple folk of this region ? Select 
quotations to support your answer. Memorize the lines you like best. 

9. Read aloud : 

(a) Lines in which Whittier gives his own personal views on 

certain topics. 
(6) Lines which tell the effect of the storm upon the "buried 

brooklet." 

(c) The description of the moonlight on the snow. 

(d) Lines which tell of the teamsters breaking through the 
snowdrifts. 

10. Select one of these topics and be prepared to give an oral or 
written report on it in class : 

(a) Contrast a modern farmhouse with which you are familiar 
with the Whittier house pictured in the poem 

(b) Contrast the opportunities for education in rural districts 
in Whittier's boyhood days with those of the present time 

(c) Discuss the influence that the schoolmaster might exert on 
such a household as Whittier describes, illustrating from 
Whittier's own life 

(d) Modes of co-operation in country life in early days, and the 
necessity for it 

(e) The most interesting person about the Whittier fireside 

(/) Rural customs in old New England, as "the village dance," 
etc. 

11. Find the meaning of each of these phrases in your Glossary : 
geometric signs (p. 354) glistened at her noon (p. 364) 
bodiced zone (p. 360) hostage from the future took 
painful Sewel's ancient tome (p. 367) 

(p. 361) soul's debatable land (p. 369) 

Nature's unhoused lyceum mail of Calvin's creed (p. 372) 

(p. 362) Flemish pictures (p. 375) 



RIP VAN WINKLE 

Washington Irving 

Irving wove the old tales, scenes, and legends of the Dutch landlords 
and housewives into the story of "Rip Van Winkle." Before reading this 
story, read the "Note" and "Postscript," pages 396-397, written by the 
author himself, in which he gives you the setting for the story. 

Whoever has made a voyage up- the Hudson must remember 
the Catskill Mountains. They are a dismembered branch of the 
great Appalachian family, and are seen away to the west of 
the river, swelling up to a noble height, and lording it over the 
surrounding country. Every change of season, every change of 
weather, indeed, every hour of the day, produces some changes 
in the magical hues and shapes of these mountains, and they are 
regarded by all the good wives, far and near, as perfect barom- 
eters. When the weather is fair and settled, they are clothed 
in blue and purple, and print their bold outlines on the clear 
evening sky; but sometimes when the rest of the landscape is 
cloudless, they wall gather a hood of gray vapors about their 
summits, which, in the last rays of the setting sun, will glow 
and light up like a crown of glory. 

At the foot of these fairy mountains the voyager may have 
descried the light smoke curling up from a village, whose shingle 
roofs gleam among the trees, just where the blue tints of the 
upland melt away into the fresh green of the nearer landscape. 
It is a little village of great antiquity, having been founded by 
some of the Dutch colonists in the early time of the province, 
just about the beginning of the government of the good Peter 
Stuyvesant (may he rest in peace!), and there were some of the 
houses of the original settlers standing within a few years, built 
of small yellow bricks brought from Holland, having latticed 
windows and gable fronts, surmounted with weathercocks. 

378 



RIP VAN WINKLE 379 

In that same village, and in one of these very houses (which, 
to tell the precise truth, was sadly timeworn and weather-beaten) , 
there lived many years since, while the country was yet a prov- 
ince of Great Britain, a simple, good-natured fellow, of the name 
of Rip Van Winkle. He was a descendant of the Van Winkles 
who figured so gallantly in the chivalrous days of Peter Stuy ve- 
sant, and accompanied him to the siege of Fort Christina. He 
inherited, however, but little of the martial character of his an- 
cestors. I have observed that he was a simple, good-natured 
man; he was, moreover, a kind neighbor and an obedient, hen- 
pecked husband. Indeed, to the latter circumstances might be 
owing that meekness of spirit which gained him such universal 
popularity; for those men are most apt to be obsequious and 
conciliating abroad who are under the discipline of shrews at 
home. Their tempers, doubtless, are rendered pliant and mallea- 
ble in the fiery furnace of domestic tribulation; and a curtain 
lecture is worth all the sermons in the world for teaching the 
virtues of patience and long-suffering. A termagant wife may, 
therefore, in some respects be considered a tolerable blessing, 
and if so, Rip Van Winkle was thrice blessed. 

Certain it is that he was a great favorite among all the good 
wives of the village, who, as usual with the amiable sex, took his 
part in all family squabbles and never failed, whenever they 
talked those matters over in their evening gossipings, to lay all 
the blame on Dame Van Winkle. The children of the village, 
too, would shout with joy whenever he approached. He assisted 
at their sports, made their playthings, taught them to fly kites 
and shoot marbles, and told them long stories of ghosts, witches, 
and Indians. Whenever he went dodging about the village, he 
was surrounded by a troop of them, hanging on his skirts, clam- 
bering on his back, and playing a thousand tricks on him with 
impunity; and not a dog would bark at him throughout the 
neighborhood. 

The great error in Rip 's composition was an insuperable aver- 
sion to all kinds of profitable labor. It could not be from the 
want of assiduity or perseverance; for he would sit on a wet 



380 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

rock, with a rod as long and heavy as a Tartar's lance, and fish 
all day without a murmur, even though he should not be en- 
couraged by a single nibble. He would carry a fowling-piece on 
his shoulder for hours together, trudging through woods and 
swamps, and up hill and down dale, to shoot a few squirrels or 
wild pigeons. He would never refuse to assist a neighbor, even 
in the roughest toil, and was a foremost man at all country 
frolics for husking Indian corn, or building stone fences; the 
women of the village, too, used to employ him to run their er- 
rands, and to do such little odd jobs as their less obliging hus- 
bands would not do for them. In a word, Rip was ready to 
attend to anybody 's business but his own ; but as to doing family 
duty and .keeping his farm in order, he found it impossible. 

In fact, he declared it was of no use to work on his farm ; it 
was the most pestilent little piece of ground in the whole coun- 
try; everything about it went wrong, and would go wrong, in 
spite of him. His fences were continually falling to pieces; his 
cow would either go astray or get among the cabbages; weeds 
were- sure to grow quicker in his fields than anywhere else ; the 
rain always made a point of setting in just as he had some out- 
door work to do ; so that though his patrimonial estate had dwin- 
dled away under his management, acre by acre, until there was 
little more left than a mere patch of Indian corn and potatoes, 
yet it was the worst conditioned farm in the neighborhood. 
_ His children, too, were as ragged and wild as if they belonged 
to nobody. His son Rip, an urchin begotten in his own like- 
ness, promised to inherit the habits, with the old clothes, of his 
father. He was generally seen trooping like a colt at his mother's 
heels, equipped in a pair of his father's cast-off galligaskins, 
which he had much ado to hold up with one hand, as a fine lady 
does her train in bad weather. 

Rip Van Winkle, however, was one of those happy mortals, of 
foolish, well-oiled dispositions, who take the world easy, eat 
white bread or brown, whichever can be got with least thought 
or trouble, and would rather starve on a penny than work for 
a pound. If left to himself, he would have whistled life away in 



RIP VAN WINKLE 381 

perfect contentment; but his wife kept continually dinning in 
his ears about his idleness, his carelessness, and the ruin he was 
bringing on his family. Morning, noon, and night her tongue 
was incessantly going, and everything he said or did was sure 
to produce a torrent of household eloquence. Rip had but one 
way of replying to all lectures of the kind, and that, by frequent 
use, had grown into a habit. He shrugged his shoulders, shook 
his head, cast up his eyes, but said nothing. This, however, 
always provoked a fresh volley from his wife; so that he was 
fain to draw off his forces and take to the outside of the house 
— the only side which, in truth, belongs to a henpecked husband. 

Rip's sole domestic adherent was his dog Wolf, who was as 
much henpecked as his master ; for Dame Van Winkle regarded 
them as companions in idleness, and even looked upon Wolf 
with an evil eye, as the cause of his master's going so often 
astray. True it is, in all points of spirit befitting an honorable 
dog, he was as courageous an animal as ever scoured the woods 
— but what courage can withstand the ever-during and all- 
besetting terrors of a woman's tongue? The moment Wolf en- 
tered the house, his crest fell, his tail drooped to the ground or 
curled between his legs; he sneaked about with a gallows air, 
casting many a sidelong glance at Dame Van Winkle, and at 
the least flourish of a broomstick or ladle, he would fly to the 
door with yelping precipitation. 

Times grew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle as years 
of matrimony rolled on; a tart temper never mellows with age, 
and a sharp tongue is the only edged tool that grows keener with 
constant use. For a long while he used to console himself, when 
driven from home, by frequenting a kind of perpetual club of the 
sages, philosophers, and other idle personages of the village, 
which held its sessions on a bench before a small inn. Here 
they used to sit in the shade through a long, lazy summer 's day, 
talking listlessly over village gossip, or telling endless sleepy 
stories about nothing. But it would have been worth any states- 
man's money to have heard the profound discussions that some- 
times took place, when by chance an old newspaper fell into their 



382 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

hands from some passing traveler. How solemnly they would 
listen to the contents, as drawled out by Derrick Van Bummel, 
the schoolmaster, a dapper, learned little man, who was not to 
be daunted by the most gigantic word in the dictionary; and 
how sagely they would deliberate upon public events some 
months after they had taken place. 

The opinions of this junto were completely controlled by Nich- 
olas Yedder, a patriarch of the village, and landlord of the inn, 
at the door of which he took his seat from morning till night, 
just moving sufficiently to avoid the sun and keep in the shade 
of a large tree, so that the neighbors could tell the hour by his 
movements as accurately as by a sundial. It is true he was rarely 
heard to speak, but smoked his pipe incessantly. His adherents, 
however (for every great man has his adherents), perfectly un- 
derstood him, and knew how to gather his opinions. "When any- 
thing that was read or related displeased him, he was observed 
to smoke his pipe vehemently, and to send forth short, frequent, 
and angry puffs; but when pleased, he would inhale the smoke 
slowly and tranquilly, and emit it in light and placid clouds; 
and sometimes, taking the pipe from his mouth, and letting the 
fragrant vapor curl about his nose, would gravely nod his head 
in token of perfect approbation. 

From even this stronghold the unlucky Rip was at length 
routed by his termagant wife, who would suddenly break in 
upon the tranquillity of the assemblage and call the members 
all to naught; nor was that august personage, Nicholas Vedder 
himself, sacred from the daring tongue of this terrible virago, 
who charged him outright with encouraging her husband in 
habits of idleness. 

Poor Rip was at last reduced almost to despair ; and his only 
alternative, to escape from the labor of the farm and clamor 
of his wife, was to take gun in hand and stroll away into the 
woods. Here he would sometimes seat himself at the foot of a 
tree and share the contents of his wallet with Wolf, with whom 
he sympathized as a fellow-sufferer in persecution. "Poor 
Wolf, ' ' he would say, ' ' thy mistress leads thee a dog 's life of it ; 



RIP VAN WINKLE 383 

but never mind, my lad ; whilst I live, thou shalt never want a 
friend to stand by thee!" Wolf would wag his tail, look wist- 
fully in his master's face, and if dogs can feel pity, I verily 
believe he reciprocated the sentiment with all his heart. In a 
long ramble of the kind on a fine autumnal day Rip had uncon- 
sciously scrambled to one of the highest parts of the Catskill 
Mountains. He was after his favorite sport of squirrel shooting, 
and the still solitudes had echoed and re-echoed with the reports 
of his gun. Panting and fatigued, he threw himself, late in the 
afternoon, on a green knoll, covered with mountain herbage, that 
crowned the brow of a precipice. From an opening between the 
trees he could overlook all the lower country for many a mile 
of rich woodland. He saw at a distance the lordly Hudson, far, 
far below him, moving on its silent, but majestic, course, with 
the reflection of a purple cloud, or the sail of a lagging bark, 
here and there sleeping on its glassy bosom, and at last losing 
itself in the blue highlands. 

On the other side he looked down into a deep mountain glen, 
wild, lonely, and shagged, the bottom filled with fragments from 
the impending cliffs, and scarcely lighted by the reflected rays 
of the setting sun. For some time Rip lay musing on this scene ; 
evening was gradually advancing ; the mountains began to throw 
their long blue shadows over the valleys; he saw that it would 
be dark long before he could reach the village, and he heaved a 
heavy sigh when he thought of encountering the terrors of 
Dame Van Winkle. 

As he was about to descend, he heard a voice from a distance 
hallooing, "Rip Van Winkle! Rip Van Winkle!" He looked 
round, but could see nothing but a crow winging its solitary 
flight across the mountain. He thought his fancy must have de- 
ceived him, and turned again to descend, when he heard the 
same cry ring through the still evening air : " Rip Van Winkle ! 
Rip Van Winkle ! ' ' — at the same time Wolf bristled up his back, 
and giving a low growl, skulked to his master's side, looking 
fearfully down into the glen. Rip now felt a vague apprehen- 
sion stealing over him; he looked anxiously in the same direc- 



RIP VAN WINKLE 385 

tion, and perceived a strange figure slowly toiling up the rocks, 
and bending under the weight of something he carried on his 
back. He was surprised to see any human being in this lonely 
and unfrequented place; but supposing it to be someone of the 
neighborhood in need of assistance, he hastened down to yield it. 

On nearer approach he was still more surprised at the singu- 
larity of the stranger's appearance. He was a short, square- 
built old fellow, with thick bushy hair, and a grizzled beard. His 
dress was of the antique Dutch fashion : a cloth jerkin strapped 
round the waist, several pair of breeches, the outer one of ample 
volume, decorated with rows of buttons down the sides, and 
bunches at the knees. He bore on his shoulder a stout keg, that 
seemed full of liquor, and made signs for Rip to approach and 
assist him with the load. Though rather shy and distrustful of 
his new acquaintance, Rip complied with his usual alacrity ; and 
mutually relieving one another, they clambered up a narrow 
gully, apparently the dry bed of a mountain torrent. As they 
ascended, Rip every now and then heard long rolling peals like 
distant thunder, that seemed to issue out of a deep ravine, or 
rather cleft, between lofty rocks, toward which their rugged 
path conducted. He paused for a moment, but supposing it to 
be the muttering of one of those transient thunder-showers which 
often take place in mountain heights, he proceeded. Passing 
through the ravine, they came to a hollow, like a small amphi- 
theater, surrounded by perpendicular precipices, over the brinks 
of which impending trees shot their branches, so that you only 
caught glimpses of the azure sky and the bright evening cloud. 
During the whole time Rip and his companion had labored on in 
silence; for though the former marveled greatly what could be 
the object of carrying a keg of liquor up this wild mountain, yet 
there was something strange and incomprehensible about the un- 
known that inspired awe and checked familiarity. 

On entering the amphitheater, new objects of wonder presented 
themselves. On a level spot in the center was a company of odd- 
looking personages playing at ninepins. They were dressed in 
a quaint, outlandish fashion; some wore short doublets, others 



386 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

jerkins, with long knives in their belts, and most of them had 
enormous breeches of similar style with that of the guide 's. Their 
visages, too, were peculiar; one had a large beard, broad face, 
and small piggish eyes; the face of another seemed to consist 
entirely of nose, and was surmounted by a white sugar-loaf hat, 
set off with a little red cock 's tail. They all had beards, of vari- 
ous shapes and colors. There was one who seemed to be the com- 
mander. He was a stout old gentleman, with a weatherbeaten 
countenance; he wore a laced doublet, broad belt and hanger, 
high-crowned hat and feather, red stockings, and high-heeled 
shoes with roses in them. The whole group reminded Rip of the 
figures in an old Flemish painting in the parlor of Dominie Van 
Shaick, the village parson, which had been brought over from 
Holland at the time of the settlement. 

What seemed particularly odd to Rip was, that though these 
folks were evidently amusing themselves, yet they maintained 
the gravest faces, the most mysterious silence, and were, withal, 
the most melancholy party of pleasure he had ever witnessed. 
Nothing interrupted the stillness of the scene but the noise of 
the balls, which, whenever they were rolled, echoed along the 
mountains like rumbling peals of thunder. 

As Rip and his companion approached them, they suddenly 
desisted from their play, and stared at him with such fixed, 
statue-like gaze and such strange, uncouth, lack-luster counte- 
nances, that his heart turned within him, and his knees smote 
together. His companion now emptied the contents of the keg 
into large flagons, and made signs to him to wait upon the com- 
pany. He obeyed with fear and trembling; they quaffed the 
liquor in profound silence, and then returned to their game. 

By degrees Rip's awe and apprehension subsided. He even 
ventured, when no eye was fixed upon him, to taste the beverage, 
which he found had much of the flavor of excellent Hollands. 
He was naturally a thirsty soul, and was soon tempted to repeat 
the draft. One taste provoked another; and he reiterated his 
visits to the flagon so often that at length his senses were over- 



RIP VAN WINKLE 387 

powered, his eyes swam in his head, his head gradually declined, 
and he fell into a deep sleep. 

On waking, he found himself on the green knoll whence he 
had first seen the old man of the glen. He rubbed his eyes — it 
was a bright, sunny morning. The birds were hopping and twit- 
tering among the bushes, and the eagle was wheeling aloft and 
breasting the pure mountain breeze. ''Surely," thought Rip, 
"I have not slept here all night." He recalled the occurrences 
before he fell asleep. The strange man with a keg of liquor — 
the mountain ravine — the wild retreat among the rocks — the woe- 
begone party at ninepins — the flagon — "Oh! that flagon! that 
wicked flagon!" thought Rip — "what excuse shall I make to 
Dame Van Winkle?" 

He looked round for his gun, but in place of the clean, well- 
oiled fowling-piece, he found an old firelock lying by him, the 
barrel incrusted with rust, the lock falling off, and the stock 
worm-eaten. He now suspected that the grave roisterers of the 
mountain had put a trick upon him, and, having dosed him with 
liquor, had robbed him of his gun. Wolf, too, had disappeared, 
but he might have strayed away after a squirrel or partridge. 
He whistled after him, and shouted his name, but all in vain; 
the echoes repeated his whistle and shout, but no dog was to be 
seen. 

He determined to revisit the scene of the last evening 's gambol, 
and if he met with any of the party, to demand his dog and gun. 
As he rose to walk, he found himself stiff in the joints and want- 
ing in his usual activity. ' ' These mountain beds do not agree with 
me," thought Rip, "and if this frolic should lay me up with a 
fit of the rheumatism, I shall have a blessed time with Dame Van 
Winkle." With some difficulty he got down into the glen; he 
found the gully up which he and his companion had ascended 
the preceding evening ; but to his astonishment a mountain stream 
was now foaming down it, leaping from rock to rock, and filling 
the glen with babbling murmurs. He, however, made shift to 
scramble up its sides, working his toilsome way through thickets 



388 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

of birch, sassafras, and witchhazel, and sometimes tripped up or 
entangled by the wild grapevines that twisted their coils or ten- 
drils from tree to tree, and spread a kind of network in his path. 

At length he reached to where the ravine had opened through 
the cliffs to the amphitheater ; but no traces of such opening re- 
mained. The rocks presented a high, impenetrable wall, over 
which the torrent came tumbling in a sheet of feathery foam, and 
fell into a broad, deep basin, black from the shadows of the sur- 
rounding forest. Here, then, poor Rip was brought to a stand. 
He again called and whistled after his dog ; he was only answered 
by the cawing of a flock of idle crows, sporting high in the air 
about a dry tree that overhung a sunny precipice ; and who, secure 
in their elevation, seemed, to look down and scoff at the poor 
man's perplexities. What was to be done? The morning was 
passing away, and Rip felt famished for want of his breakfast. 
He grieved to give up his dog and gun; he dreaded to meet his 
wife; but it would not do to starve among the mountains. He 
shook his head, shouldered the rusty firelock, and, with a heart 
full of trouble and anxiety, turned his steps homeward. 

As he approached the village, he met a number of people, but 
none of whom he knew, which somewhat surprised him, for he 
had thought himself acquainted with everyone in the country 
round. Their dress, too, was of a different fashion from that to 
which he was accustomed. They all stared at him with equal 
marks of surprise, and whenever they cast their eyes upon him, 
invariably stroked their chins. The constant recurrence of this 
gesture induced Rip, involuntarily, to do the same, when, to his 
astonishment, he found his beard had grown a foot long ! 

He had now entered the skirts of the village. A troop of strange 
children ran at his heels, hooting after him, and pointing at his 
gray beard. The dogs, too, not one of which he recognized for 
an old acquaintance, barked at him as he passed. The very vil- 
lage was altered ; it was larger and more populous. There were 
rows of houses which he had never seen before, and those which 
had been his familiar haunts had disappeared. Strange names 
wertt over the doors — strange faces at the windows — everything 



RIP VAN WINKLE 389 

was strange. His mind now misgave him; he began to doubt 
whether both he and the world around him were not bewitched. 
Surely this was his native village, which he had left but the day 
before. There stood the Catskill Mountains — there ran the silver 
Hudson at a distance — there was every hill and dale precisely 
as it had always been — Rip was sorely perplexed — ' ' That flagon 
last night, ' ' thought he, ' ' has addled my poor head sadly ! ' ' 

It was with some difficulty that he found the way to his own 
house, which he approached with silent awe, expecting every 
moment to hear the shrill voice of Dame Van Winkle. He found 
the house gone to decay — the roof fallen in, the windows shat- 
tered, and the doors off the hinges. A half-starved dog that 
looked like Wolf was skulking about it. Rip called him by name, 
but the cur snarled, showed his teeth, and passed on. This was 
an unkind cut indeed — "My very dog," sighed poor Rip, "has 
forgotten me!" 

He entered the house, which, to tell the truth, Dame Van 
Winkle had always kept in neat order. It was empty, forlorn, 
and apparently abandoned. This desolateness overcame all his 
connubial fears — he called loudly for his wife and children — the 
lonely chambers rang for a moment with his voice, and then again 
all was silence. 

He now hurried forth and hastened to his old resort, the village 
inn — but it, too, was gone. A large, rickety wooden building 
stood in its place, with great gaping windows, some of them 
broken and mended with old hats and petticoats, and over the 
door was painted, "The Union Hotel, by Jonathan Doolittle." 
Instead of the great tree that used to shelter the quiet little 
Dutch inn of yore, there now was reared a tall, naked pole, with 
something on the top that looked like a red nightcap, and from 
it was fluttering a flag, on which was a singular assemblage of 
stars and stripes — all this was strange and incomprehensible. He 
recognized on the sign, however, the ruby face of King George, 
under which he had smoked so many a peaceful pipe ; but even 
this was singularly metamorphosed. The red coat was changed 
for one of blue and buff, a sword was held in the hand instead 



390 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

of a scepter, the head was decorated with a cocked hat, and 
underneath was painted in large characters, General Wash- 
ington. 

There was, as usual, a crowd of folk about the door, but none 
that Rip recollected. The very character of the people seemed 
changed. There was a busy, bustling, disputatious tone about it, 
instead of the accustomed phlegm and drowsy tranquillity. He 
looked in vain for the sage Nicholas Vedder, with his broad face, 
double chin, and fair long pipe, uttering clouds of tobacco smoke 
instead of idle speeches ; or Van Bummel, the schoolmaster, doling 
forth the contents of an ancient newspaper. In place of these, 
a lean, bilious-looking fellow, with his pockets full of handbills, 
was haranguing vehemently about rights of citizens — elections — 
members of congress — liberty — Bunker 's Hill — heroes of seventy- 
six — and other words, which were a perfect Babylonish jargon to 
the bewildered Van Winkle. 

The appearance of Rip, with his long, grizzled beard, his rusty 
fowling-piece, his uncouth dress, and an army of women and 
children at his heels, soon attracted the attention of the tavern- 
politicians. They crowded round him, eying him from head to 
foot with great curiosity. The orator bustled up to him, and, 
drawing him partly aside, inquired on which side he voted. Rip 
stared in vacant stupidity. Another short, but busy, little fellow 
pulled him by the arm, and, rising on tiptoe, inquired in his ear 
whether he was Federal or Democrat. Rip was equally at a loss 
to comprehend the question, when a knowing, self-important old 
gentleman, in a sharp cocked hat, made his way through the 
crowd, putting them to the right and left with his elbows as he 
passed, and planted himself before Van Winkle, with one arm 
akimbo, the other resting on his cane, his keen eyes and sharp 
hat penetrating, as it were, into his very soul, demanding in an 
austere tone what brought him to the election with a gun on his 
shoulder and a mob at his heels, and whether he meant to breed 
riot in the village. "Alas! gentlemen," cried Rip, somewhat dis- 
mayed, ' ' I am a poor quiet man, a native of the place, and a loyal 
subject of the King, God bless him j" 



RIP VAN WINKLE 391 

Here a general shout burst from the bystanders — ' ' A tory ! 
a tory ! a spy ! a refugee ! hustle him ! away with him ! " It was 
with great difficulty that the self-important man in the cocked 
hat restored order; and, having assumed a tenfold austerity of 
brow, demanded again of the unknown culprit what he came 
there for, and whom he was seeking? The poor man humbly 
assured him that he meant no harm, but merely came there in 
search of some of his neighbors, who used to keep about the 
tavern. 

"Well — who are they? — name them." 

Rip bethought himself a moment, and inquired, "Where's 
Nicholas Vedder?" There was silence for a little while, when 
an old man replied, in a thin, piping voice : ' ' Nicholas Vedder ! 
why, he is dead and gone these eighteen years! There was a 
wooden tombstone in the churchyard that used to tell all about 
him, but that's rotten and gone, too. ,, 

"Where's Brom Dutcher?" 

"Oh, he went off to the army in the beginning of the war; 
some say he was killed at the storming of Stony Point — others 
say he was drowned in a squall at the foot of Antony's Nose, I 
don 't know — he never came back again. ' ' 

"Where's Van Bummel, the schoolmaster?" 

1 ' He went off to the wars, too, was a great militia general, and 
is now in Congress." 

Rip's heart died away at hearing of these sad changes in his 
home and friends, and finding himself thus alone in the world. 
Every answer puzzled him, too, by treating of such enormous 
lapses of time, and of matters which he could not understand : 
war — Congress — Stony Point. He had no courage to ask after 
any more friends, but cried out in despair, "Does nobody here 
know Rip Van Winkle ? ' ' 

' ' Oh, Rip Van Winkle ! ' ' exclaimed two or three, ' ' Oh, to be 
sure ! that 's Rip Van Winkle yonder, leaning against the tree. ' ' 

Rip looked, and beheld a precise counterpart of himself as he 
went up the mountain; apparently as lazy, and certainly as 
ragged. The poor fellow was now completely confounded. He 



392 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

doubted his own identity, and whether he was himself or another 
man. In the midst of his bewilderment, the man in the cocked 
hat demanded who he was, and what was his name. 

"God knows," exclaimed he, at his wit's end; "I'm not my- 
self — I'm somebody else — that's me yonder — no — that's some- 
body else got into my shoes — I was myself last night, but I fell 
asleep on the mountain, and they 've changed my gun, and every- 
thing 's changed, and I'm changed, and I can't tell what's my 
name, or who I am ! ' ' 

The bystanders began now to look at each other, nod, wink sig- 
nificantly, and tap their fingers against their foreheads. There 
was a whisper, also, about securing the gun, and keeping the old 
fellow from doing mischief, at the very suggestion of which the 
self-important man in the cocked hat retired with some precipita- 
tion. At this critical moment a fresh, comely woman pressed 
through the throng to get a peep at the gray-bearded man. She 
had a chubby child in her arms, which, frightened at his looks, 
began to cry. i ' Hush, Rip, ' ' cried she, ' ' hush ; the old man won 't 
hurt you. ' ' The name of the child, the air of the mother, the 
tone of her voice, all awakened a train of recollections in his 
mind. ' ' What is your name, my good woman ? ' ' asked he. 

"Judith Gardenier." 

' ' And your father 's name ? ' ' 

* ' Ah, poor man, Rip Van Winkle was his name, but it 's twenty 
years since he went away from home with his gun, and never 
has been heard of since — his dog came home without him; but 
whether he shot himself, or was carried away by the Indians, 
nobody can tell. I was then but a little girl. ' ' 

Rip had but one question more to ask; and he put it with a 
faltering voice : ' ' Where 's your mother ? ' ' 

"Oh, she, too, died but a short time since; she broke a blood- 
vessel in a fit of passion at a New England peddler. ' ' 

There was a drop of comfort, at least, in this intelligence. The 
honest man could contain himself no longer. He caught his 
daughter and her child in his arms. ' ' I am your father ! ' ' cried 



RIP VAN WINKLE 



393 




he — "Young Rip Van Winkle once — old Rip Van Winkle now! 
Does nobody know poor Rip Van Winkle ? ' ' 

All stood amazed, until an old woman, tottering out from 
among the crowd, put her hand to her brow, and peering under 
it in his face for a moment, exclaimed, ' ' Sure enough, it is Rip 
Van Winkle — it is himself ! Welcome home again, old neighbor — 
Why, where have you been these twenty long years ? ' ' 

Rip 's story was soon told, for the whole twenty years had been 
to him but one night. The neighbors stared when they heard it ; 
some were seen to wink at each other, and put their tongues in 
their cheeks ; and the self-important man in the cocked hat, who, 
when the alarm was over, had returned to the field, screwed down 
the corners of his mouth and shook his head — upon which there 
was a general shaking of the head throughout the assemblage. 

It was determined, however, to take the opinion of old Peter 
Vanderdonk, who was seen slowly advancing up the road. He 
was a descendant of the historian of that name, who wrote one 



394 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

of the earliest accounts of the province. Peter was the most 
ancient inhabitant of the village, and well versed in all the won- 
derful events and traditions of the neighborhood. He recollected 
Rip at once, and corroborated his story in the most satisfactory 
manner. He assured the company that it was a fact, handed 
down from his ancestor, the historian, that the Catskill Moun- 
tains had always been haunted by strange beings. That it was 
affirmed that the great Hendrick Hudson, the first discoverer of 
the river and country, kept a kind of vigil there every twenty 
years, with his crew of the Half Moon, being permitted in this 
way to revisit the scenes of his enterprise, and keep a guardian 
eye upon the river and the great city called by his name. That 
his father had once seen them in their old Dutch dresses playing 
at ninepins in a hollow of the mountain ; and that he himself had 
heard, one summer afternoon, the sound of their balls like dis- 
tant peals of thunder. 

To make a long story short, the company broke up and re- 
turned to the more important concerns of the election. Rip's 
daughter took him home to live with her; she had a snug, well- 
furnished house, and a stout, cheery farmer for a husband, whom 
Rip recollected for one of the urchins that used to climb upon his 
back. As to Rip's son and heir, who was the ditto of himself, 
seen leaning against the tree, he was employed to work on the 
farm ; but evinced an hereditary disposition to attend to anything 
else but his business. 

Rip now resumed his old walks and habits ; he soon found many 
of his former cronies, though all rather the worse for the wear 
and tear of time ; and preferred making friends among the rising 
generation, with whom he soon grew into great favor. 

Having nothing to do at home, and being arrived at that happy 
age when a man can be idle with impunity, he took his place once 
more on the bench at the inn door, and was reverenced as one 
of the patriarchs of the village, and a chronicle of the old times 
' * before the war. ' ' It was some time before he could get into the 
regular track of gossip, or could be made to comprehend the 
strange events that had taken place during his torpor : how that 



RIP VAN WINKLE 395 

there had been a revolutionary war — that the country had thrown 
off the yoke of old England — and that, instead of being- a subject 
of His Majesty George the Third, he was now a free citizen of 
the United States. Rip, in fact, was no politician; the changes 
of states and empires made but little impression on him; but 
there was one species of despotism under which he had long 
groaned, and that was — petticoat government. Happily that was 
at an end! he had got his neck out of the yoke of matrimony, 
and could go in and out whenever he pleased, without dreading 
the tyranny of Dame Van Winkle. Whenever her name was 
mentioned, however, he shook his head, shrugged his shoulders, 
and cast up his eyes, which might pass either for an expression of 
resignation to his fate, or joy at his deliverance. 

He used to tell his story to every stranger that arrived at Mr. 
Doolittle 's hotel. He was observed, at first, to vary on some points 
every time he told it, which was, doubtless, owing to his having 
so recently awaked. It at last settled down precisely to the tale 
I have related, and not a man, woman, or child in the neighbor- 
hood but knew it by heart. Some always pretended to doubt the 
reality of it, and insisted that Rip had been out of his head, and 
that this was one point on which he always remained nighty. The 
old Dutch inhabitants, however, almost universally gave it full 
credit. Even to this day they never hear a thunderstorm of a 
summer afternoon about the Cat-skill, but they say Hendrick 
Hudson and his crew are at their game of ninepins ; and it is 
a common wish of all henpecked husbands in the neighborhood, 
when life hangs heavy on their hands, that they might have a 
quieting draft out of Rip Van Winkle 's flagon. 

Notes and Questions 
Washington Irving (1783-1859) was born in the city of New York, 
in the very year in which the Treaty of Peace that ended the Revolu- 
tionary War was signed. He was destined to do for American literature 
what the war had already done for the American government and people 
— make it respected among all nations. Irving's mother said, "Washing- 
ton's great work is done; let us name our boy Washington," little 
dreaming when thus naming him after the "Father of His Country" 



396 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

that he should one day come to be called the "Father of American 
Letters" (literature). 

Note 

"The Catskill Mountains have always been a region full of fable. The 
Indians considered them the abode of spirits, who influenced the weather, 
spreading sunshine or clouds over the landscape, and sending good or 
bad hunting seasons. They were ruled by an old squaw spirit, said to be 
their mother. She dwelt on the highest peak of the Catskills, and had 
charge of the doors of day and night to open and shut them at the 
proper hour. She hung up the new moons in the skies, and cut up the 
old ones into stars. In times of drought, if properly propitiated, she 
would spin light summer clouds out of cobwebs and morning dew, and 
send them off from the crest of the mountain, flake after flake, like the 
flakes of carded cotton, to float in the air ; until, dissolved by the heat of 
the sun, they would fall in gentle showers, causing the grass to spring, 
the fruits to ripen, and the corn to grow an inch an hour. If displeased, 
however, she would brew up clouds black as ink, sitting in the midst of 
them like a bottle-bellied spider in the midst of its web ; and when these 
clouds broke, woe betide the valleys! 

"In old times, say the Indian traditions, there was a kind of Manitou, 
or Spirit, who kept about the wildest recesses of the Catskill Mountains, 
and took a mischievous pleasure in wreaking all kinds of evils and 
vexations upon the red man. Sometimes he would assume the form of 
a bear, a panther, or a deer, lead a bewildered hunter a weary chase 
through tangled forests and among ragged rocks; and then spring off 
with a loud ho ! ho ! leaving him aghast on the brink of a beetling preci- 
pice or raging torrent. 

"The favorite abode of this Manitou is still shown. It is a great rock 
or cliff on the loneliest part of the mountains, and, from the flowering 
vines which clamber about it, and the wild flowers which abound in its 
neighborhood, is known by the name of the Garden Rock. Near the foot 
of it is a small lake, the haunt of the solitary bittern, with water-snakes 
basking in the sun on leaves of the pond-lilies which lie on the surface. 
This place was held in great awe by the Indians, insomuch that the 
boldest hunter would not pursue his game within its precincts. Once 
upon a time, however, a hunter who had lost his way penetrated to the 
Garden Rock, where he beheld a number of gourds placed in the crotches 
of trees. One of these he seized and made off with it, but in the hurry 



RIP VAN WINKLE 397 

of his retreat he let it fall among the rocks, when a great stream gushed 
forth, which washed him away and swept him down precipices, where 
he was dashed to pieces, and the stream made its way to the Hudson, 
and continues to flow to the present day, being the identical stream 
known by the name of Kaaterskill." 

Postscript 

"The story of Rip Van Winkle may seem incredible to many, but 
nevertheless I give it my full belief, for I know the vicinity of our old 
Dutch settlements to have been very subject to marvelous events and 
appearances. Indeed, I have heard many stranger stories than this, in 
the villages along the Hudson; all of which were too well authenticated 
to admit of a doubt. I have even talked with Rip Van Winkle myself, 
who, when I last saw him, was a very venerable old man, and so perfectly 
rational and consistent on every other point that I think no conscien- 
tious person could refuse to take this into the bargain ; nay, I have seen 
a certificate on the subject taken before a country justice, and signed 
with a cross, in the justice's own handwriting. The story, therefore, is 
beyond the possibility of doubt. 

D. K." 

1. Diedrich Knickerbocker was the pen name used by Irving; how 
does this add to the interest in his writings'? Are the "Note*- and the 
"Postscript" given above convincing? How do they make the tale seem 
more real ? 

2. Irving refers to the mountains as "barometers" and "fairy moun- 
tains"; give a reason for this. (See "Note.") 

3. Give a brief, but clear and interesting, oral description of Rip's 
appearance. Why do you think the author introduced you to the main 
character first? 

4. List Rip's personal qualities as they are brought out in his asso- 
ciations with : 

(a) his dog. (c) his wife. 

(b) his friends. (d) the children in the village. 
Do you think Irving chose a man of the right character for the part ? 

Give reasons for your answer. 

5. How does the character of Dame Van Winkle add to the interest 
of the story? Do you think Dame Van Winkle was originally of a 
shrewish temper? If not, what do you believe might have changed her? 



398 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

What contribution does Wolf make in the development of the narrative ? 
Irving takes several pages for his introduction; did these details seem 
tiresome to you? Why? 

6. Describe Rip's day of hunting. Tell in your own words of the 
encounter between Rip and the strange characters he met on the moun- 
tain. How much space does the author use in telling you about Rip's 
sleeping years? How does Irving make the reader feel the long space 
of time that has elapsed since Rip went to sleep? 

7. Rip did not notice his long beard until he reached the village ; why 
does the author delay this evident sign of age ? Briefly relate the changes 
that had taken place in the village. Find lines about Rip's visit to his 
old home that show both humor and pathos. Who tells Rip he had been 
gone twenty years 1 

8. Select to present to the class the most humorous parts of the story. 
In Elson Junior Literature, Book One, you read Irving's story "The 
Legend of Sleepy Hollow"; which one of these two stories do you like 
the better ? Which is more humorous ? Find lines to support your choice. 

9. Read aloud : 

(a) Irving's picture of the mountain scenery on tlie day Rip 
went hunting. 

(b) The lines which tell you about Rip's awakening. 

(c) Rip's return to his home. 

(d) The most pathetic passage in the story. 

10. Make a special report on one of these topics : 

(a) The character of Rip Van Winkle 

( b ) The character of Dame Van Winkle 

(c) Irving as a short-story writer 

11. "Rip Van Winkle" is a very interesting story to dramatize. You 
may wish to work out the costumes, settings, dialogues, and all other 
details, or you may prefer to use the dramatization of the story by 
Joseph Jefferson, a famous actor. 

12. Find these words in the Glossary, if you do not know their mean- 
ing : descried, obsequious, termagant, patrimonial, reciprocated, alacrity, 
impenetrable, connubial, phlegm, corroborated. 

If you have enjoyed "Rip Van Winkle," you will want to read other 
selections from The Sketch Book, Irving. 



EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 

The story of "Evangeline" will mean much more to you if you get 
first the historical background of the country in which the scene for the 
story is laid. Turn to page 458 and read the explanation given there. 

PRELUDE 

This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the 

hemlocks, 
Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the 

twilight, 
Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic ; 
Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms. 
Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighboring ocean 
Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the 

forest. 

This is the forest primeval; but where are the hearts that 
beneath it 

Leaped like the roe when he hears in the woodland the voice of 
the huntsman! 

Where is the thatch-roofed village, the home of Acadian 
farmers — 

Men whose lives glided on like rivers that water the woodlands, 

Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting an image of 
heaven ? 

"Waste are those pleasant farms, and the farmers forever de- 
parted ! 

Scattered like dust and leaves when the mighty blasts of 
October 

399 



400 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Seize them, and whirl them aloft, and sprinkle them far o 'er the 

ocean. 
Naught but tradition remains of the beautiful village of Grand- 

Pre. 

Ye who believe in affection that hopes, and endures, and is 

patient, 
Ye who believe in the beauty and strength of woman's devotion, 
List to the mournful tradition still sung by the pines of the 

forest ; 
List to a Tale of Love in Acadie, home of the happy. 



PART THE FIRST 



In the Acadian land, on the shores of the Basin of Minas, 

Distant, secluded, still, the little village of Grand-Pre 

Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows stretched to the east- 
ward, 

Giving the village its name, and pasture to flocks without 
number. 

Dikes, that the hands of the farmers had raised with labor in- 
cessant, 

Shut out the turbulent tides; but at stated seasons the flood- 
gates 

Opened and welcomed the sea to wander at will o'er the 
meadows. 

"West and south there were fields of flax, and orchards and corn- 
fields 

Spreading afar and unfenced o'er the plain; and away to the 
northward 

Blomidon rose, and the forest old; and aloft on the mountains 

Sea-fogs pitched their tents ; and mists from the mighty Atlantic 



EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE 401 

Looked on the happy valley, but ne'er from their station de- 
scended. 
There, in the midst of its farms, reposed the Acadian village. 
Strongly built were the houses, with frames of oak and of 

chestnut, 
Such as the peasants of Normandy built in the reign of the 

Henries. 
Thatched were the roofs, with dormer-windows; and gables pro- 
jecting 
Over the basement below protected and shaded the doorway. 
There in the tranquil evenings of summer, when brightly the 

sunset 
Lighted the village street and gilded the vanes on the chimneys, 
Matrons and maidens sat in snow-white caps and in kirtles 
Scarlet and blue and green, with distaffs spinning the golden 
Flax for the gossiping looms, whose noisy shuttles within doors 
Mingled their sound with the whir of the wheels and the songs 

of the maidens. 
Solemnly down the street came the parish priest; and the 

children 
Paused in their play to kiss the hand he extended to bless them. 
Reverend walked he among them; and up rose matrons and 

maidens, 
Hailing his slow approach with words of affectionate welcome. 
Then came the laborers home from the field, and serenely the 

sun sank 
Down to his rest, and twilight prevailed. Anon from the belfry 
Softly the Angelus sounded; and over the roofs of the village 
Columns of pale blue smoke, like clouds of incense ascending, 
Rose from a hundred hearths, the homes of peace and content- 
ment. 
Thus dwelt together in love these simple Acadian farmers — 
Dwelt in the love of God and of man. Alike were they free from 
Fear, that reigns with the tyrant, and envy, the vice of re- 
publics. 



402 



ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 




Neither locks had they to their doors, nor bars to their windows ; 
But their dwellings were open as day and the hearts of the 

owners ; 
There the richest was poor, and the poorest lived in abundance. 



Somewhat apart from the village, and nearer the Basin of 
Minas, 

Benedict Bellefontaine, the wealthiest farmer of Grand-Pre, 

Dwelt on his goodly acres; and with him, directing his house- 
hold, 

Gentle Evangeline lived, his child, and the pride of the village. 

Stalwart and stately in form was the man of seventy winters; 

Hearty and hale was he, an oak that is covered with snowflakes ; 

White as the snow were his locks, and his cheeks as brown as 
the oak-leaves. 

Fair was she to behold, that maiden of seventeen summers ; 

Black were her eyes as the berry that grows on the thorn by the 
wayside ; 



EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE 403 

Black, yet how softly they gleamed beneath the brown shade of 

her tresses ! 
Sweet was her breath as the breath of kine that feed in the 

meadows. 
When in the harvest heat she bore to the reapers at noontide 
Flagons of home-brewed ale, ah! fair in sooth was the maiden. 
Fairer was she when, on Sunday morn, while the bell from its 

turret 
Sprinkled with holy sounds the air, as the priest with his hyssop 
Sprinkles the congregation, and scatters blessings upon them, 
Down the long street she passed, with her chaplet of beads and 

her missal, 
Wearing her Norman cap and her kirtle of blue, and the earrings 
Brought in the olden time from France, and since, as an heir- 
loom 
Handed down from mother to child, through long generations. 
But a celestial brightness — a more ethereal beauty — 
Shone on her face and encircled her form when, after confession, 
Homeward serenely she walked with God 's benediction upon her. 
When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite 
music. 

Firmly builded with rafters of oak, the house of the farmer 
Stood on the side of a hill commanding the sea; and a shady 
Sycamore grew by the door, with a woodbine wreathing around 

it. 
Rudely carved was the porch, with seats beneath ; and a footpath 
Led through an orchard wide, and disappeared in the meadow. 
Under the sycamore tree were hives overhung by a penthouse, 
Such as the traveler sees in regions remote by the roadside, 
Built o 'er a box for the poor, or the blessed image of Mary. 
Farther down, on the slope of the hill, was the well with its moss- 
grown 
Bucket, fastened with iron, and near it a trough for the horses. 
Shielding the house from storms, on the north, were the barns 
and the farmyard; 



404 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

There stood the broad-wheeled wains and the antique plows and 
the harrows ; 

There were the folds for the sheep; and there, in his feathered 
seraglio, 

Strutted the lordly turkey, and crowed the cock, with the self- 
same 

Voice that in ages of old had startled the penitent Peter. 

Bursting with hay were the barns, themselves a Tillage. In each 
one 

Far o'er the gable projected a roof of thatch; and a staircase, 

Under the sheltering eaves, led up to the odorous cornloft. 

There, too, the dovecot stood, with its meek and innocent inmates 

Murmuring ever of love ; while above in the variant breezes 

Numberless noisy weathercocks rattled and sang of mutation. 

Thus, at peace with God and the world, the farmer of Grand- 
Pre 
Lived on his sunny farm; and Evangeline governed his house- 

- hold. 
Many a youth, as he knelt in the church and opened his missal, 
Fixed his eyes upon her as the saint of his deepest devotion; 
Happy was he who might touch her hand or the hem of her 

garment ! 
Many a suitor came to her door, by the darkness befriended, 
And, as he knocked and waited to hear the sound of her footsteps, 
Knew not which beat the louder, his heart or the knocker of iron ; 
Or, at the joyous feast of the Patron Saint of the village, 
Bolder grew, and pressed her hand in the dance as he whispered 
Hurried words of love, that seemed a part of the music. 
But among all who came young Gabriel only was welcome ; 
Gabriel Lajeunesse, the son of Basil the blacksmith, 
Who was a mighty man in the village, and honored of all men; 
For since the birth of time, throughout all ages and nations, 
Has the craft of the smith been held in repute by the people. 
Basil was Benedict's friend. Their children from earliest child- 
hood 



EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE 405 

Grew up together as brother and sister ; and Father Felician, 

Priest and pedagogue both in the village, had taught them their 
letters 

Out of the selfsame book, with the hymns of the church and the 
plain-song. 

But when the hymn was sung, and the daily lesson completed, 

Swiftly they hurried away to the forge of Basil the blacksmith. 

There at the door they stood with wondering eyes to behold him 

Take in his leathern lap the hoof of the horse as a plaything, 

Nailing the shoe in its place ; while near him the tire of the cart- 
wheel 

Lay like a fiery snake, coiled round in a circle of cinders. 

Oft on autumnal eves, when without in the gathering darkness 

Bursting with light seemed the smithy, through every cranny 
and crevice, 

Warm by the forge within they watched the laboring bellows; 

And as its panting ceased, and the sparks expired in the ashes, 

Merrily laughed, and said they were nuns going into the chapel. 

Oft on sledges in winter, as swift as the swoop of the eagle, 

Down the hillside bounding, they glided away o'er the meadow. 

Oft in the barns they climbed to the populous nests on the 
rafters, 

Seeking with eager eyes that wondrous stone which the swallow 

Brings from the shore of the sea to restore the sight of its fledg- 
lings ; 

Lucky was he who found that stone in the nest of the swallow ! 

Thus passed a few swift years, and they no longer were children. 

He was a valiant youth ; and his face, like the face of the morn- 
ing, 

Gladdened the earth with its light, and ripened thought into 
action. 

She was a woman now, with the heart and hopes of a woman. 

"Sunshine of Saint Eulalie" she was called; for that was the 
sunshine 

Which, as the farmers believed, would load their orchards with 
apples ; 



406 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

She, too, would bring to her husband's house delight and abun- 
dance, 
Filling it full of love and the ruddy faces of children. 



n 

Now had the season returned when the nights grow colder and 
longer, 

And the retreating sun the sign of the Scorpion enters. 

Birds of passage sailed through the leaden air, from the ice- 
bound, 

Desolate northern bays to the shores of tropical islands. 

Harvests were gathered in; and wild with the winds of Sep- 
tember 

Wrestled the trees of the forest, as Jacob of old with the angel. 

All the signs foretold a winter long and inclement. 

Bees, with prophetic instinct of want, had hoarded their honey 

Till the hives overflowed; and the Indian hunters asserted 

Cold would the winter be, for thick was the fur of the foxes. 

Such was the advent of autumn. Then followed that beautiful 
season 

Called by the pious Acadian peasants the Summer of All-Saints ! 

Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the 
landscape 

Lay as if new-created in all the freshness of childhood. 

Peace seemed to reign upon earth, and the restless heart of the 
ocean 

Was for a moment consoled. All sounds were in harmony 
blended. 

Voices of children at play, the crowing of cocks in the farmyards, 

Whir of wings in the drowsy air, and the cooing of pigeons, 

All were subdued and low as the murmurs of love, and the great 
sun 

Looked with the eye of love through the golden vapors around 
him; 

While, arrayed in its robes of russet and scarlet and yellow, 



EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE 407 

Bright with the sheen of the dew, each glittering tree of the 

forest 
Flashed like the plane-tree the Persian adorned with mantles 

and jewels. 

Now recommenced the reign of rest and affection and stillness. 

Day with its burden and heat had departed, and twilight de- 
scending 

Brought back the evening star to the sky, and the herds to the 
homestead. 

Pawing the ground they came, and resting their necks on each 
other, 

And with their nostrils distended inhaling the freshness of eve- 
ning. 

Foremost, bearing the bell, Evangeline 's beautiful heifer, 

Proud of her snow-white hide, and the ribbon that waved from 
her collar, 

Quietly paced and slow, as if conscious of human affection. 

Then came the shepherd back with his bleating flocks from the 
seaside, 

Where was their favorite pasture. Behind them followed the 
watchdog, 

Patient, full of importance, and grand in the pride of his in- 
stinct, 

Walking from side to side with a lordly air, and superbly 

Waving his bushy tail, and urging forward the stragglers ; 

Eegent of flocks was he when the shepherd slept ; their protector 

When from the forest at night, through the starry silence, the 
wolves howled. 

Late, with the rising moon, returned the wains from the 
marshes, 

Laden with briny hay, that filled the air with its odor. 

Cheerily neighed the steeds, with dew on their manes and their 
fetlocks, 

While aloft on their shoulders the wooden and ponderous 
saddles, 



408 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Painted with brilliant dyes, and adorned with tassels of crim- 
son, 

Nodded in bright array, like hollyhocks heavy with blossoms. 

Patiently stood the cows meanwhile, and yielded their udders 

Unto the milkmaid's hand; whilst loud and in regular cadence 

Into the sounding pails the foaming streamlets descended. 

Lowing of eattle and peals of laughter were heard in the farm- 
yard, 

Echoed back by the barns. Anon they sank into stillness; 

Heavily closed, with a jarring sound, the valves of the barn- 
doors, 

Rattled the wooden bars, and all for a season was silent. 

Indoors, warm by the wide-mouthed fireplace, idly the farmer 
Sat in his elbow-chair, and watched how the flames and the 

smoke-wreaths 
Struggled together like foes in a burning city. Behind him, 
Nodding and mocking along the wall with gestures fantastic, 
Darted his own huge shadow, and vanished away into darkness. 
Faces, clumsily carved in oak on the back of his armchair, 
Laughed in the flickering light, and the pewter plates on the 

dresser 
Caught and reflected the flame, as shields of armies the sunshine. 
Fragments of song the old man sang, and carols of Christmas, 
Such as at home, in the olden time, his fathers before him 
Sang in their Norman orchards and bright Burgundian vine- 
yards. 
Close at her father's side was the gentle Evangeline seated, 
Spinning flax for the loom that stood in the corner behind her. 
Silent awhile were its treadles, at rest was its diligent shuttle, 
While the monotonous drone of the wheel, like the drone of a 

bagpipe, 
Followed the old man's song, and united the fragments together. 
As in a church, when the chant of the choir at intervals ceases, 
Footfalls are heard in the aisles, or words of the priest at the 
altar, 



EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE 409 

So, in each pause of the song, with measured motion the clock 
clicked. 

Thus as they sat, there were footsteps heard, and, suddenly 
lifted, 

Sounded the wooden latch, and the door swung back on its 
hinges. 

Benedict knew by the hobnailed shoes it was Basil the black- 
smith, 

And by her beating heart Evangeline knew who was with him. 

"Welcome!" the farmer exclaimed, as their footsteps paused on 
the threshold, 

"Welcome, Basil, my friend! Come, take thy place on the settle 

Close by the chimney-side, which is always empty without thee ; 

Take from the shelf overhead thy pipe and the box of tobacco ; 

Never so much thyself art thou as when, through the curling 

Smoke of the pipe or the forge, thy friendly and jovial face 
gleams 

Round and red as the harvest moon through the mist of the 
marshes. ' ' 

Then, with a smile of content, thus answered Basil the black- 
smith, 

Taking with easy air the accustomed seat by the fireside : 

"Benedict Belief ontaine, thou hast ever thy jest and thy ballad! 

Ever in cheerfullest mood art thou when others are filled with 

Gloomy forebodings of ill, and see only ruin before them. 

Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst picked up a horse- 
shoe." 

Pausing a moment, to take the pipe that Evangeline brought 
him, 

And with a coal from the embers had lighted, he slowly con- 
tinued : 

"Four days now are passed since the English ships at their 
anchors 

Ride in the Gaspereau's mouth, with their cannon pointed 
against us. 



410 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

What their design may be is unknown; but all are commanded 
On the morrow to meet in the church, where his Majesty's man- 
date 
Will be proclaimed as law in the land. Alas ! in the meantime 
Many surmises of evil alarm the hearts of the people.'' 
Then made answer the farmer: " Perhaps some friendlier pur- 
pose 
Brings these ships to our shores. Perhaps the harvests in Eng- 
land 
By the untimely rains or untimelier heat have been blighted, 
And from our bursting barns they would feed their cattle and 

children. ' ' 
' ' Not so thinketh the folk in the village, ' ' said warmly the black- 
smith, 
Shaking his head as in doubt; then, heaving a sigh, he con- 
tinued : 
"Louisburg is not forgotten, nor Beau Sejour, nor Port Royal. 
Many already have fled to the forest, and lurk on its outskirts, 
Waiting with anxious hearts the dubious fate of tomorrow. 
Arms have been taken from us, and warlike weapons of all 

kinds ; 
Nothing is left but the blacksmith's sledge and scythe of the 

mower. ' ' 
Then with a pleasant smile made answer the jovial farmer : 
" Safer are we unarmed, in the midst of our flocks and our corn- 
fields, 
Safer within these peaceful dikes besieged by the ocean, 
Than were our fathers in forts, besieged by the enemy 's cannon. 
Fear no evil, my friend; and tonight may no shadow of sorrow 
Fall on this house and hearth ; for this is the night of the con- 
tract. 
Built are the house and the barn. The merry lads of the village 
Strongly have built them and well ; and, breaking the glebe round 

about them, 
Filled the barn with hay, and the house with food for a twelve- 
month. 



EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE 411 

Rene Leblanc will be here anon, with his papers and inkhorn. 

Shall we not then be glad, and rejoice in the joy of our chil- 
dren?" 

As apart by the window she stood, with her hand in her lover 's, 

Blushing, Evangeline heard the words that her father had 
spoken, 

And, as they died on his lips, the worthy notary entered. 

m 

Bent like a laboring oar that toils in the surf of the ocean, 
Bent, but not broken, by age was the form of the notary public ; 
Shocks of yellow hair, like the silken floss of the maize, hung 
Over his shoulders ; his forehead was high ; and glasses with horn 

bows 
Sat astride on his nose, with a look of wisdom supernal. 
Father of twenty children was he, and more than a hundred 
Children 's children rode on his knee, and heard his great watch 

tick. 
Four long years in the times of the war had he languished a 

captive, 
Suffering much in an old French fort as the friend of the Eng- 
lish. 
Now, though warier grown, without all guile or suspicion, 
Ripe in wisdom was he, but patient, and simple, and childlike. 
He was beloved by all, and most of all by the children ; 
For he told them tales of the Loup-garou in the forest, 
And of the goblin that came in the night to water the horses, 
And of the white Letiche, the ghost of a child who unchristened 
Died, and was doomed to haunt unseen the chambers of children ; 
And how on Christmas eve the oxen talked in the stable, 
And how the fever was cured by a spider shut up in a nutshell, 
And of the marvelous powers of four-leaved clover and horse- 
shoes, 
With whatsoever else was writ in the lore of the village. 
Then up rose from his seat by the fireside Basil the blacksmith, 



412 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Knocked from his pipe the ashes, and slowly extending his right 

hand, 
" Father Leblanc," he exclaimed, "thou hast heard the talk in 

the village, 
And, perchance, canst tell us some news of these ships and their 

errand. ' ' 
Then with modest demeanor made answer the notary public : 
1 ' Gossip enough have I heard, in sooth, yet am never the wiser ; 
And what their errand may be I know not better than others. 
Yet am I not of those who imagine some evil intention 
Brings them here, for we are at peace ; and why then molest us ? ' ' 
1 ' God 's name ! ' ' shouted the hasty and somewhat irascible black- 
smith ; 
1 ' Must we in all things look for the how, and the why, and the 

wherefore ? 
Daily injustice is done, and might is the right of the strongest !" 
But, without heeding his warmth, continued the notary public : 
"Man is unjust, but God is just; and finally justice 
Triumphs ; and well I remember a story that often consoled me 
When as a captive I lay in the old French fort at Port Royal. ' ' 
This was the old man's favorite tale, and he loved to repeat it 
When his neighbors complained that any injustice was done 

them. 
1 ' Once in an ancient city, whose name I no longer remember, 
Raised aloft on a column, a brazen statue of Justice 
Stood in the public square, upholding the scales in its left hand, 
And in its right a sword, as an emblem that justice presided 
Over the laws of the land, and the hearts and homes of the 

people. 
Even the birds had built their nests in the scales of the balance, 
Having no fear of the sword that flashed in the sunshine above 

them. 
But in the course of time the laws of the land were corrupted ; 
Might took the place of right, and the weak were oppressed, and 

the mighty 



EVANGELINE : A TALE OF AC ADIE 413 

Ruled with an iron rod. Then it chanced in a nobleman's palace 
That a necklace of pearls was lost, and ere long a suspicion 
Fell on an orphan girl who lived as maid in the household. 
She, after form of trial condemned to die on the scaffold, 
Patiently met her doom at the foot of the statue of Justice. 
As to her Father in heaven her innocent spirit ascended, 
Lo ! o 'er the city a tempest rose ; and the bolts of the thunder 
Smote the statue of bronze, and hurled in wrath from its left hand 
Down on the pavement below the clattering scales of the balance, 
And in the hollow thereof was found the nest of a magpie, 
Into whose clay-built walls the necklace of pearls was inwoven. ' ' 
Silenced, but not convinced, when the story was ended, the 

blacksmith 
Stood like a man who fain would speak, but findeth no language ; 
All his thoughts were congealed into lines on his face, as the 

vapors 
Freeze in fantastic shapes on the window panes in the winter. 

Then Evangeline lighted the brazen lamp on the table ; 
Filled, till it overflowed, the pewter tankard with home-brewed 
Nut-brown ale, that was famed for its strength in the village 

of Grand-Pre ; 
While from his pocket the notary drew his papers and inkhorn, 
Wrote with a steady hand the date and the age of the parties, 
Naming the dower of the bride in flocks of sheep and in cattle. 
Orderly all things proceeded, and duly and well were completed, 
And the great seal of the law was set like a sun on the margin. 
Then from his leathern pouch the farmer threw on the table 
Three times the old man's fee in solid pieces of silver ; 
And the notary rising, and blessing the bride and the bride- 
groom, 
Lifted aloft the tankard of ale and drank to their welfare. 
Wiping the foam from his lip, he solemnly bowed and departed, 
While in silence the others sat and mused by the fireside, 
Till Evangeline brought the draft-board out of its corner. 



414 



ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 




Soon was the game begun. In friendly contention the old men 
Laughed at each lucky hit, or unsuccessful maneuver ; 
Laughed when a man was crowned, or a breach was made in the 

king-row. 
Meanwhile apart, in the twilight gloom of a window's embrasure, 
Sat the lovers and whispered together, beholding the moon rise 
Over the pallid sea and the silvery mist of the meadows. 
Silently one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven, 
Blossomed the lovely stars, the. forget-me-nots of the angels. 



Thus was the evening passed. Anon the bell from the belfry 
Rang out the hour of nine, the village curfew, and straightway 
Rose the guests and departed ; and silence reigned in the house- 
hold. 
Many a farewell word and sweet good-night on the doorstep 
Lingered long in Evangeline's heart, and filled it with glad- 
ness. 



EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE 415 

Carefully then were covered the embers that glowed on the hearth- 
stone, 

And on the oaken stairs resounded the tread of the farmer. 

Soon with a soundless step the foot of Evangeline followed. 

Up the staircase moved a luminous space in the darkness, 

Lighted less by the lamp than the shining face of the maiden. 

Silent she passed through the hall, and entered the door of her 
chamber. 

Simple that chamber was, with its curtains of white, and its 
clothespress 

Ample and high, on whose spacious shelves were carefully folded 

Linen and woolen stuffs, by the hand of Evangeline woven. 

This was the precious dower she would bring to her husband in 
marriage, 

Better than flocks and herds, being proofs of her skill as a house- 
wife. 

Soon she extinguished her lamp, for the mellow and radiant 
moonlight 

Streamed through the windows, and lighted the room, till the 
heart of the maiden 

Swelled and obeyed its power, like the tremulous tides of the 
ocean. 

Ah ! she was fair, exceeding fair to behold, as she stood with 

Naked snow-white feet on the gleaming floor of her chamber ! 

Little she dreamed that below, among the trees of the orchard, 

Waited her lover, and watched for the gleam of her lamp and 
her shadow. 

Yet were her thoughts of him, and at times a feeling of sadness 

Passed o 'er her soul, as the sailing shade of clouds in the moon- 
light 

Flitted across the floor and darkened the room for a moment. 

And, as she gazed from the window, she saw serenely the moon 
pass 

Forth from the folds of a cloud, and one star follow her footsteps, 

As out of Abraham 's tent young Ishmael wandered with Hagar. 



416 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

IV 

Pleasantly rose next morn the sun on the village of Grand-Pre. 

Pleasantly gleamed in the soft, sweet air the Basin of Minas, 

Where the ships, with their wavering shadows, were riding at 
anchor. 

Life had long been astir in the village, and clamorous labor 

Knocked with its hundred hands at the golden gates of the 
morning. 

Now from the country around, from the farms and neighboring 
hamlets, 

Came in their holiday dresses the blithe Acadian peasants. 

Many a glad good-morrow and jocund laugh from the young folk 

Made the bright air brighter, as up from the numerous meadows, 

Where no path could be seen but the track of wheels in the 
greensward, 

Group after group appeared, and joined, or passed on the high- 
way. 

Long ere noon, in the village all sounds of labor were silenced. 

Thronged were the streets with people ; and noisy groups at the 
house-doors 

Sat in the cheerful sun, and rejoiced and gossiped together. 

Every house was an inn, where all were welcomed and feasted ; 

For with this simple people, who lived like brothers together, 

All things were held in common, and what one had was another 's. 

Yet under Benedict 's roof hospitality seemed more abundant, 

For Evangeline stood among the guests of her father ; 

Bright was her face with smiles, and words of welcome and glad- 
ness 

Fell from her beautiful lips, and blessed the cup as she gave it. 

Under the open sky, in the odorous air of the orchard, 
Bending with golden fruit, was spread the feast of betrothal. 
There in the shade of the porch were the priest and the notary 

seated ; 
There good Benedict sat, and sturdy Basil the blacksmith. 



EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE 417 

Not far withdrawn from these, by the cider-press and the bee- 
hives, 

Michael the fiddler was placed, with the gayest of hearts and of 
waistcoats. 

Shadew and light from the leaves alternately played on his snow- 
white 

Hair, as it waved in the wind ; and the jolly face of the fiddler 

Glowed like a living coal when the ashes are blown from the 
embers. 

Gayly the old man sang to the vibrant sound of his fiddle, 

Tons les Bourgeois de Chartres, and Le Carillon de Dunkerque, 

And anon with his wooden shoes beat time to the music. 

Merrily, merrily whirled the wheels of the dizzying dances 

Under the orchard trees and down the path to the meadows ; 

Old folk and young together, and children mingled among them. 

Fairest of all the maids was Evangeline, Benedict's daughter ! 

Noblest of all the youths was Gabriel, son of the blacksmith. 

So passed the morning away. And lo ! with a summons sonorous 
Sounded the bell from its tower, and over the meadows a drum 

beat. 
Thronged ere long was the church with men. Without, in the 

churchyard, 
Waited the women. They stood by the graves, and hung on the 

headstones 
Garlands of autumn leaves and evergreens fresh from the forest, 
Then came the guard from the ships, and marching proudly 

among them 
Entered the sacred portal. With loud and dissonant clangor 
Echoed the sound of their brazen drums from ceiling and case-. 

ment — 
Echoed a moment only, and slowly the ponderous portal 
Closed, and in silence the crowd awaited the will of the soldiers. 
Then uprose their commander, and spake from the steps of the 

altar, 



418 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Holding aloft in his hands, with its seals, the royal commission. 
"You are convened this day," he said, "by His Majesty's orders. 
Clement and kind has he been ; but how you have answered his 

kindness 
Let your own hearts reply ! To my natural make and my temper 
Painful the task is I do, which to you I know must be grievous. 
Yet must I bow and obey, and deliver the will of our monarch : 
Namely, that all your lands, and dwellings, and cattle of all kinds 
Forfeited be to the crown; and that you yourselves from this 

province 
Be transported to other lands. God grant you may dwell there 
Ever as faithful subjects, a happy and peaceable people ! 
Prisoners now I declare you, for such is His Majesty's pleasure ! ' ' 
As, when the air is serene in the sultry solstice of summer, 
Suddenly gathers a storm, and the deadly sting of the hailstones 
Beats down the farmer's corn in the field, and shatters his win- 
dows, 
Hiding the sun, and strewing the ground with thatch from the 

house-roofs, 
Bellowing fly the herds, and seek to break their inclosures, 
So on the hearts of the people descended the words of the speaker. 
Silent a moment they stood in speechless wonder, and then rose 
Louder and ever louder a wail of sorrow and anger ; 
And, by one impulse moved, they madly rushed to the doorway. 
Vain was the hope of escape ; and cries and fierce imprecations 
Rang through the house of prayer ; and high o 'er the heads of the 

others 
Rose, with his arms uplifted, the figure of Basil the blacksmith, 
As, on a stormy sea, a spar is tossed by the billows. 
Flushed was his face and distorted with passion ; and wildly he 

shouted : 
' l Down with the tyrants of England ! We never have sworn them 

allegiance ! 
Death to these foreign soldiers who seize on our homes and our 

harvests ! ' ' 



EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE 419 

More he fain would have said, but the merciless hand of a soldier 
Smote him upon the mouth, and dragged him down to the pave- 
ment. 

In the midst of the strife and tumult of angry contention, 
Lo ! the door of the chancel opened, and Father Felician 
Entered, with serious mien, and ascended the steps of the altar. 
Raising his reverend hand, with a gesture he awed into silence 
All that clamorous throng ; and thus he spake to his people ; 
Deep were his tones and solemn ; in accents measured and mourn- 
ful 
Spake he, as, after the tocsin 's alarum, distinctly the clock strikes. 
"What is this that ye do, my children? What madness has seized 

you? 
Forty years of my life have I labored among you, and taught you, 
Not in word alone, but in deed, to love one another ! 
Is this the fruit of my toils, of my vigils and prayers and priva- 
tions ? 
Have you so soon forgotten all lessons of love and forgiveness ? 
This is the house of the Prince of Peace, and would you profane it 
Thus with violent deeds and hearts overflowing with hatred ? 
Lo ! where the crucified Christ from his cross is gazing upon you ! 
See ! in those sorrowful eyes what meekness and holy compassion ! 
Hark ! how those lips still repeat the prayer, ' Father, forgive 

them!' 
Let us repeat that prayer in the hour when the wicked assail us ; 
Let us repeat it now, and say, ' Father, forgive them ! ' ' ' 
Few were his words of rebuke, but deep in the hearts of his people 
Sank they, and sobs of contrition succeeded the passionate out 

break, 
And they repeated his prayer, and said, "0 Father, forgive 
them!" 

Then came the evening service. The tapers gleamed from the 
altar ; 



420 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Fervent and deep was the voice of the priest, and the people 

responded. 
Not with their lips alone, but their hearts ; and the Ave Maria 
Sang they, and fell on their knees ; and their souls, with devotion 

translated, 
Rose on the ardor of prayer, like Elijah ascending to heaven. 

Meanwhile had spread in the village the tidings of ill ; and on 

all sides 
Wandered, wailing, from house to house, the women and children. 
Long at her father 's door Evangeline stood, with her right hand 
Shielding her eyes from the level rays of the sun, that, descending, 
Lighted the village street with mysterious splendor and roofed 

each 
Peasant's cottage with golden thatch, and emblazoned its win- 
dows. 
Long within had been spread the snow-white cloth on the table ; 
There stood the wheaten loaf, and the honey fragrant with wild 

flowers ; 
There stood the tankard of ale, and the cheese fresh brought from 

the dairy; 
And at the head of the board the great armchair of the farmer. 
Thus did Evangeline wait at her father's door, as the sunset 
Threw the long shadows of trees o'er the broad, ambrosial 

meadows. 
Ah ! on her spirit within a deeper shadow had fallen ; 
And from the fields of her soul a fragrance celestial ascended — 
Charity, meekness, love, and hope, and forgiveness, and patience ! 
Then, all forgetful of self, she wandered into the village, 
Cheering with looks and words the disconsolate hearts of the 

women, 
As o'er the darkening fields with lingering steps they departed, 
Urged by their household cares, and the weary feet of their 

children. 
Down sank the great red sun, and in golden, glimmering vapors 



EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE 421 

Veiled the light of his face, like the Prophet descending from 

Sinai. 
Sweetly over the village the bell of the Aaigelus sounded. 

Meanwhile, amid the gloom, by the church Evangeline lingered. 
All was silent within ; and in vain at the door and the windows 
Stood she, and listened and looked, until, overcome by emotion, 
1 ' Gabriel ! ' ' cried she aloud with tremulous voice ; but no answer 
Came from the graves of the dead, nor the gloomier grave of the 

living. 
Slowly at length she returned to the tenantless house of her 

father. 
Smoldered the fire on the hearth ; on the board stood the supper 

untasted. 
Empty and drear was each room, and haunted with phantoms of 

terror. 
Sadly echoed her step on the stair and the floor of her chamber. 
In the dead of the night she heard the whispering rain fall 
Loud on the withered leaves of the sycamore tree by the window. 
Keenly the lightning flashed ; and the voice of the echoing thunder 
Told her that God was in heaven, and governed the world he 

created ! 
Then she remembered the tale she had heard of the justice of 

Heaven ; 
Soothed was her troubled soul, and she peacefully slumbered till 

morning. 



Four times the sun had risen and set ; and now on the fifth day 
Cheerily called the cock to the sleeping maids of the farmhouse. 
Soon o 'er the yellow fields, in silent and mournful procession, 
Came from the neighboring hamlets and farms the Acadian 

women, 
Driving in ponderous wains their household goods to the sea- 
shore, 



422 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Pausing and looking back to gaze once more on their dwellings, 
Ere they were shut from sight by the winding road and the wood- 
land. 
Close at their sides their children ran, and urged on the oxen, 
While in their little hands they clasped some fragments of play- 
things. 

Thus to the Gaspereau 's mouth they hurried ; and there on the 
sea-beach 

Piled in confusion lay the household goods of the peasants. 

All day long between the shore and the ships did the boats ply ; 

All day long the wains came laboring down from the village. 

Late in the afternoon, when the sun was near to his setting, 

Echoing far o'er the fields came the roll of drums from the 
churchyard. 

Thither the women and children thronged. On a sudden the 
church doors 

Opened, and forth came the guard, and marching in gloomy pro- 
cession 

Followed the long-imprisoned, but patient, Acadian farmers. 

Even as pilgrims, who journey afar from their homes and their 
country, 

Sing as they go, and in singing forget they are weary and way- 
worn, 

So with songs on their lips the Acadian peasants descended 

Down from the church to the shore, amid their wives and their 
daughters. 

Foremost the young men came ; and, raising together their voices, 

Sang they with tremulous lips a chant of the Catholic Missions : 

1 ' Sacred heart of the Saviour ! inexhaustible fountain ! 

Fill our hearts this day with strength and submission and 
patience !" 

Then the old men, as they marched, and the women that stood by 
the wayside 



EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE 423 

Joined in the sacred psalm; and the birds in the sunshine above 

them 
Mingled their notes therewith, like voices of spirits departed. 

Halfway down to the shore Evangeline waited in silence, 
Not overcome with grief, but strong in the hour of affliction — 
Calmly and sadly waited, until the procession approached her, 
And she beheld the face of Gabriel pale with emotion. 
Tears then filled her eyes, and eagerly running to meet him, 
Clasped she his hands, and laid her head on his shoulder, and 

whispered — 
1 ' Gabriel ! be of good cheer ; for if we love one another, 
Nothing, in truth, can harm us, whatever mischances may hap- 
pen!" 
Smiling she spake these words; then suddenly paused, for her 

father 
Saw she, slowly advancing. Alas ! how changed was his aspect ! 
Gone was the glow from his cheek, and the fire from his eye ; and 

his footstep 
Heavier seemed with the weight of the weary heart in his bosom. 
But with a smile and a sigh she clasped his neck and embraced 

him, 
Speaking words of endearment where words of comfort availed 

not. 
Thus to the Gaspereau's mouth moved on that mournful pro- 
cession 

There disorder prevailed, and the tumult and stir of embarking. 
Busily plied the freighted boats ; and in the confusion 
Wives were torn from their husbands, and mothers, too late, saw 

their children 
Left on the land, extending their arms, with wildest entreaties. 
So unto separate ships were Basil and Gabriel carried, 
While in despair on the shore Evangeline stood with her father. 



424 



ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 



&&'? 




Half the task was not done when the sun went down, and the 

twilight 
Deepened and darkened around ; and in haste the refluent ocean 
Fled away from the shore and left the line of the sand-beach 
Covered with waifs of the tide, with kelp and the slippery sea- 
weed. 
Farther back in the midst of the household goods and the wagons, 
Like to a gypsy camp, or a leaguer after a battle, 
All escape cut off by the sea, and the sentinels near them, 
Lay encamped for the night the houseless Acadian farmers. 
Back to its nethermost caves retreated the bellowing ocean, 
Dragging adown the beach the rattling pebbles, and leaving 
Inland and far up the shore the stranded boats of the sailors. 
Then, as the night descended, the herds returned from their 

pastures ; 
Sweet was the moist, still air with the odor of milk from their 

udders ; 
Lowing they waited, and long, at the well-known bars of the 
farmyard — 



EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE 425 

Waited and looked in vain for the voice and the hand of the 

milkmaid. 
Silence reigned in the streets; from the church no Angelus 

sounded ; 
Rose no smoke from the roofs; and gleamed no lights from the 

windows. 



But on the shores meanwhile the evening fires had been kindled, 
Built of the driftwood thrown on the sands from wrecks in the 

tempest. 
Round them shapes of gloom and sorrowful faces were gathered, 
Voices of women were heard, and of men, and the crying of 

children. 
Onward from fire to fire, as from hearth to hearth in his parish, 
Wandered the faithful priest, consoling and blessing and cheering, 
Like unto shipwrecked Paul on Melita 's desolate seashore. 
Thus he approached the place where Evangeline sat with her 

father, 
And in the flickering light beheld the face of the old man, 
Haggard and hollow and wan, and without either thought or 

emotion, 
E 'en as the face of a clock from which the hands have been taken. 
Vainly Evangeline strove with words and caresses to cheer him, 
Vainly offered him food ; yet he moved not, he looked not, he spake 

not, 
But, with a vacant stare, ever gazed at the flickering firelight. 
"Benedicite!" murmured the priest, in tones of compassion. 
More he fain would have said, but his heart was full, and his 

accents 
Faltered and paused on his lips, as the feet of a child on a 

threshold, 
Hushed by the scene he beholds, and the awful presence of sorrow. 
Silently, therefore, he laid his hand on the head of the maiden, 
Raising his eyes full of tears to the silent stars that above them 



426 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Moved on their way, unperturbed by the wrongs and sorrows of 

mortals. 
Then sat he down at her side, and they wept together in silence. 

Suddenly rose from the south a light, as in autumn the blood- 
red 

Moon climbs the crystal walls of heaven, and o'er the horizon 

Titan-like stretches its hundred hands upon mountain and 
meadow, 

Seizing the rocks and the rivers, and piling huge shadows together. 

Broader and ever broader it gleamed on the roofs of the village, 

Gleamed on the sky and the sea, and the ships that lay in the 
roadstead. 

Columns of shining smoke uprose, and flashes of flame were 

Thrust through their folds and withdrawn, like the quivering 
hands of a martyr. 

Then as the wind seized the gleeds and the burning thatch, and, 
uplifting, 

Whirled them aloft through the air, at once from a hundred 
housetops 

Started the sheeted smoke with flashes of flame intermingled. 

These things beheld in dismay the crowd on the shore and on 
shipboard. 
Speechless at first they stood, then cried aloud in their anguish, 
"We shall behold no more our homes in the village of Grand- 

Pre!" 
Loud on a sudden the cocks began to crow in the farmyards, 
Thinking the day had dawned ; and anon the lowing of cattle 
Came on the evening breeze, by the barking of dogs interrupted. 
Then rose a sound of dread, such as startles the sleeping encamp- 
ments 
Far in the western prairies or forests that skirt the Nebraska, 
When the wild horses affrighted sweep by with the speed of the 
whirlwind, 



EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE 427 

Or the loud bellowing herds of buffalos rush to the river. 

Such was the sound that arose on the night, as the herds and the 

horses 
Broke through their folds and fences, and madly rushed o 'er the 

meadows. 

Overwhelmed with the sight, yet speechless, the priest and the 

maiden 
Gazed on the scene of terror that reddened and widened before 

them; 
And as they turned at length to speak to their silent companion, 
Lo! from his seat he had fallen, and stretched abroad on the 

seashore 
Motionless lay his form, from which the soul had departed. 
Slowly the priest uplifted the lifeless head ; and the maiden 
Knelt at her father's side, and wailed aloud in her terror. 
Then in a swoon she sank, and lay with her head on his bosom. 
Through the long night she lay in deep, oblivious slumber ; 
And when she woke from the trance, she beheld a multitude near 

her. 
Faces of friends she beheld, that were mournfully gazing upon 

her, 
Pallid, with tearful eyes, and looks of saddest compassion. 
Still the blaze of the burning village illumined the landscape, 
Reddened the sky overhead, and gleamed on the faces around her, 
And like the day of doom it seemed to her wavering senses. 
Then a familiar voice she heard, as it said to the people — 
' ' Let us bury him here by the sea. When a happier season 
Brings us again to our homes from the unknown land of our exile, 
Then shall his sacred dust be piously laid in the churchyard. ' ' 
Such were the words of the priest. And there in haste by the 

seaside, 
Having the glare of the burning village for funeral torches, 
But without bell or book, they buried the farmer of Grand-Pre. 
And as the voice of the priest repeated the service of sorrow, 



428 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Lo ! with a mournful sound like the voice of a vast congregation, 
Solemnly answered the sea, and mingled its roar with the dirges. 
'Twas the returning tide, that afar from the waste of the ocean, 
With the first dawn of the day, came heaving and hurrying land- 
ward. 
Then recommenced once more the stir and noise of embarking ; 
And with the ebb of that tide the ships sailed out of the harbor, 
Leaving behind them the dead on the shore, and the village in 
ruins. 

PART THE SECOND 



Many a weary year had passed since the burning of Grand-Pre, 
When on the falling tide the freighted vessels departed, 
Bearing a nation, with all its household goods, into exile, 
Exile without an end, and without an example in story. 
Far asunder, on separate coasts, the Acadians landed ; 
Scattered were they, like flakes of snow, when the wind from the 

northeast 
Strikes aslant through the fogs that darken the Banks of New- 
foundland. 
Friendless, homeless, hopeless, they wandered from city to city, 
From the cold lakes of the North to sultry Southern savannas, 
From the bleak shores of the sea to the lands where the Father 

of Waters 
Seizes the hills in his hands, and drags them down to the ocean, 
Deep in their sands to bury the scattered bones of the mammoth. 
Friends they sought and homes; and many, despairing, heart- 
broken, 
Asked of the earth but a grave, and no longer a friend nor a 

fireside. 
Written their history stands on tablets of stone in the church- 
yards. 
Long among them was seen a maiden who waited and wandered, 



EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE 429 

Lowly and meek in spirit, and patiently suffering all things. 
Fair was she and young ; but, alas ! before her extended, 
Dreary and vast and silent, the desert of life, and its pathway 
Marked by the graves of those who had sorrowed and suffered 

before her, 
Passions long extinguished, and hopes long dead and abandoned, 
As the emigrant 's way o 'er the Western desert is marked by 
Camp fires long consumed, and bones that bleach in the sunshine. 
Something there was in her life incomplete, imperfect, unfinished ; 
As if a morning of June, with all its music and sunshine, 
Suddenly paused in the sky, and fading, slowly descended 
Into the east again, from whence it late had arisen. 
Sometimes she lingered in towns, till, urged by the fever within 

her, 
Urged by a restless longing, the hunger and thirst of the spirit, 
She would commence again her endless search and endeavor ; 
Sometimes in churchyards strayed, and gazed on the crosses and 

tombstones ; 
Sat by some nameless grave, and thought that perhaps in its 

bosom 
He was already at rest, and she longed to slumber beside him. 
Sometimes a rumor, a hearsay, an inarticulate whisper, 
Came with its airy hand to point and beckon her forward. 
Sometimes she spake with those who had seen her beloved and 

known him, 
But it was long ago, in some far-off place or forgotten. 
1 ' Gabriel La jeunesse ! ' ' said others ; "oh, yes ! we have seen him. 
He was with Basil the blacksmith, and both have gone to the 

prairies ; 
Coureurs-des-bois are they, and famous hunters and trappers." 
"Gabriel Lajeunesse!" said others; "oh, yes! we have seen him. 
He is a voyageur in the lowlands of Louisiana." 
Then would they say, "Dear child! why dream and wait for him 

longer ? 
Are there not other youths as fair as Gabriel ? others 



430 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Who have hearts as tender and true, and spirits as loyal ? 
Here is Baptiste Leblanc, the notary's son, who has loved thee 
Many a tedious year ; come, give him thy hand and be happy ! 
Thou art too fair to be left to braid St. Catherine's tresses." 
Then would Evangeline answer, serenely but sadly, "I cannot! 
Whither my heart has gone, there follows my hand, and not else- 
where. 
For when the heart goes before, like a lamp, and illumines the 

pathway, 
Many things are made clear that else lie hidden in darkness. ' ' 
And thereupon the priest, her friend and father confessor, 
Said, with a smile, "O daughter! thy God thus speaketh within 

thee! 
Talk not of wasted affection ; affection never was wasted ; 
If it enrich not the heart of another, its waters, returning 
Back to their springs, like the rain, shall fill them full of refresh- 
ment; 
That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the foun- 
tain. 
Patience ; accomplish thy labor ; accomplish thy work of affection ! 
Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike. 
Therefore accomplish thy labor of love, till the heart is made 

godlike, 
Purified, strengthened, perfected, and rendered more worthy of 

heaven ! ' ' 
Cheered by the good man 's words, Evangeline labored and waited. 
Still in her heart she heard the funeral dirge of the ocean, 
But with its sound there was mingled a voice that whispered, 

''Despair not!" 
Thus did that poor soul wander in want and cheerless discomfort, 
Bleeding, barefooted, over the shards and thorns of existence. 
Let me essay, Muse ! to follow the wanderer's footsteps — 
Not through each devious path, each changeful year of existence, 
But as a traveler follows a streamlet 's course through the valley : 
Far from its margin at times, and seeing the gleam of its water 



EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE 




Here and there, in some open space, and at intervals only ; 
Then drawing nearer its bank, through sylvan glooms that con- 
ceal it, 
Though he behold it not, he can hear its continuous murmur ; 
Happy, at length, if he find a spot where it reaches an outlet. 

n 
It was the month of May. Far down the Beautiful River, 
Past the Ohio shore and past the mouth of the Wabash, 
Into the golden stream of the broad and swift Mississippi, 
Floated a cumbrous boat, that was rowed by Acadian boatmen. 
It was a band of exiles — a raft, as it were, from the shipwrecked 
Nation, scattered along the coast, now floating together, 
Bound by the bonds of a common belief and a common mis- 
fortune ; 
Men and women and children, who, guided by hope or by hear 

say, 
Sought for their kith and their kin among the few-acred farmers 
On the Acadian coast, and the prairies of fair Opelousas. 



432 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

With them Evangeline went, and her guide, the Father Felician. 
Onward o 'er sunken sands, through a wilderness somber with 

forests, 
Day after day they glided adown the turbulent river ; 
Night after night, by their blazing fires, encamped on its borders. 
Now through rushing chutes, among green islands, where plume- 
like 
Cotton trees nodded their shadowy crests, they swept with the 

current ; 
Then emerged into broad lagoons, where silvery sand bars 
Lay in the stream, and along the wimpling waves of their margin, 
Shining with snow-white plumes, large flocks of pelicans waded. 
Level the landscape grew, and along the shores of the river, 
Shaded by china trees, in the midst of luxuriant gardens, 
Stood the houses of planters, with negro cabins and dovecots. 
They were approaching the region where reigns perpetual sum- 
mer, 
Where through the Golden Coast, and groves of orange and 

citron, 
Sweeps with majestic curve the river away to the eastward. 
They, too, swerved from their course; and, entering the Bayou 

of Plaquemine, 
Soon were lost in a maze of sluggish and devious waters, 
Which, like a network of steel, extended in every direction. 
Over their heads the towering and tenebrous boughs of the 

cypress 
Met in a dusky arch, and trailing mosses in mid-air 
Waved like banners that hang on the walls of ancient cathedrals. 
Deathlike the silence seemed, and unbroken, save by the herons 
Home to their roosts in the cedar trees returning at sunset, 
Or by the owl, as he greeted the moon with demoniac laughter. 
Lovely the moonlight was as it glanced and gleamed on the water, 
Gleamed on the columns of cypress and cedar sustaining the 

arches, 
Down through whose broken vaults it fell as through chinks in 
a ruin. 



EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE 433 

Dreamlike, and indistinct, and strange were all things around 

them ; 
And o'er their spirits there came a feeling of wonder and sad- 
ness — 
Strange forebodings of ill, unseen, and that cannot be compassed. 
As, at the tramp of a horse's hoofs on the turf of the prairies, 
Far in advance are closed the leaves of the shrinking mimosa, 
So, at the hoof -beats of fate, with sad forebodings of evil, 
Shrinks and closes the heart, ere the stroke of doom has at- 
tained it. 
But Evangeline 's heart was sustained by a vision that faintly 
Floated before her eyes, and beckoned her on through the moon- 
light. 
It was the thought of her brain that assumed the shape of a phan- 
tom. 
Through those shadowy aisles had Gabriel wandered before her, 
And every stroke of the oar now brought him nearer and nearer. 



Then in his place, at the prow of the boat, rose one of the oars- 
men, 

And, as a signal sound, if others like them peradventure 

Sailed on those gloomy and midnight streams, blew a blast on 
his bugle. 

Wild through the dark colonnades and corridors leafy the blast 
rang, 

Breaking the seal of silence and giving tongues to the forest. 

Soundless above them the banners of moss just stirred to the 
music. 

Multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the distance, 

Over the watery floor, and beneath the reverberant branches ; 

But not a voice replied ; no answer came from the darkness ; 

And when the echoes had ceased, like a sense of pain was the 
silence. 

Then Evangeline slept ; but the boatmen rowed through the mid- 
night, 



434 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Silent at times, then singing familiar Canadian boat-songs, 

Such as they sang of old on their own Acadian rivers ; 

And through the night were heard the mysterious sounds of the 

desert, 
Far-off — indistinct — as of wave or wind in the forest, 
Mixed with the whoop of the crane and the roar of the grim 

alligator. 

Thus ere another noon they emerged from those shades; and 
before them 
Lay, in the golden sun, the lakes of the Atchafalaya. 
Water-lilies in myriads rocked on the slight undulations 
Made by the passing oars, and, resplendent in beauty, the lotus 
Lifted her golden crown above the heads of the boatmen. 
Faint was the air with the odorous breath of magnolia blossoms, 
And with the heat of noon ; and numberless sylvan islands, 
Fragrant and thickly embowered with blossoming hedges of roses, 
Near to whose shores they glided along, invited to slumber. 
Soon by the fairest of these their weary oars were suspended. 
Under the boughs of Wachita willows, that grew by the margin, 
Safely their boat was moored ; and scattered about on the green- 
sward, 
Tired with their midnight toil, the weary travelers slumbered. 
Over them vast and high extended the cope of a cedar. 
Swinging from its great arms, the trumpet-flower and the grape- 
vine 
Hung their ladder of ropes aloft like the ladder of Jacob, 
On whose pendulous stairs the angels ascending, descending, 
Were the swift humming birds, that flitted from blossom to blos- 
som. 
Such was the vision Evangeline saw as she slumbered beneath it. 
Filled was her heart with love, and the dawn of an opening 

heaven 
Lighted her soul in sleep with the glory of regions celestial. 



EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE 435 

Nearer and ever nearer, among the numberless islands, 
Darted a light, swift boat, that sped away o'er the water, 
Urged on its course by the sinewy arms of hunters and trappers. 
Northward its prow was turned, to the land of the bison and 

beaver. 
At the helm sat a youth, with countenance thoughtful and care- 
worn. 
Dark and neglected locks overshadowed his brow, and a sadness 
Somewhat beyond his years on his face was legibly written. 
Gabriel was it, who, weary with waiting, unhappy and restless, 
Sought in the Western wilds oblivion of self and of sorrow. 
Swiftly they glided along, close under the lee of the island, 
But by the opposite bank, and behind a screen of palmettos ; 
So that they saw not the boat, where it lay concealed in the wil- 
lows; 
And undisturbed by the dash of their oars, and unseen, were the 

sleepers ; 
Angel of God was there none to awaken the slumbering maiden. 
Swiftly they glided away, like the shade of a cloud on the prairie. 
After the sound of their oars on the tholes had died in the dis- 
tance, 
As from a magic trance the sleepers awoke, and the maiden 
Said with a sigh to the friendly priest, ' ' Father Felician ! 
Something says in my heart that near me Gabriel wanders. 
Is it a foolish dream, an idle and vague superstition ? 
Or has an angel passed, and revealed the truth to my spirit ? ' ' 
Then, with a blush, she added, "Alas for my credulous fancy! 
Unto ears like thine such words as these have no meaning. ' ' 
But made answer the reverend man, and he smiled as he 

answered : 
' ' Daughter, thy words are not idle ; nor are they to me without 

meaning. 
Feeling is deep and still ; and the word that floats on the surface 
Is as the tossing buoy that betrays where the anchor is hidden. 



436 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Therefore trust to thy heart, and to what the world calls illusions. 

Gabriel truly is near thee ; for not far away to the southward, 

On the banks of the Teche, are the towns of St. Maur and St. 
Martin. 

There the long-wandering bride shall be given again to her bride- 
groom, 

There the long-absent pastor regain his flock and his sheepfold. 

Beautiful is the land, with its prairies and forests of fruit trees ; 

Under the feet a garden of flowers, and the bluest of heavens 

Bending above, and resting its dome on the walls of the forest. 

They who dwell there have named it the Eden of Louisiana. ' ' 

And with these words of cheer they arose and continued their 

journey. 
Softly the evening came. The sun from the western horizon 
Like a magician extended his golden wand o 'er the landscape ; 
Twinkling vapors arose ; and sky and water and forest 
Seemed all on fire at the touch, and melted and mingled together. 
Hanging between two skies, a cloud with edges of silver, 
Floated the boat, with its dripping oars, on the motionless water. 
Filled was Evangeline 's heart with inexpressible sweetness. 
Touched by the magic spell, the sacred fountain of feeling 
Glowed with the light of love, as the skies and waters around her. 
Then from a neighboring thicket the mocking bird, wildest of 

singers, 
Swinging aloft on a willow spray that hung o 'er the water, 
Shook from his little throat such floods of delirious music, 
That the whole air and the woods and the waves seemed silent to 

listen. 
Plaintive at first were the tones and sad ; then soaring to madness 
Seemed they to follow or guide the revel of frenzied Bacchantes. 
Single notes were then heard, in sorrowful, low lamentation ; 
Till, having gathered them all, he flung them abroad in derision, 
As when, after a storm, a gust of wind through the tree-tops 
Shakes down the rattling rain in a crystal shower on the branches. 



EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE 437 

With such a prelude as this, and hearts that throbbed with emo- 
tion, 

Slowly they entered the Teche, where it flows through the green 
Opelousas, 

And, through the amber air, above the crest of the woodland, 

Saw the column of smoke that arose from a neighboring dwell- 
ing; 

Sounds of a horn they heard, and the distant lowing of cattle. 



in 

Near to the bank of the river, o'ershadowed by oaks from 

whose branches 
Garlands of Spanish moss and of mystic mistletoe flaunted, 
Such as the Druids cut down with golden hatchets at yuletide, 
Stood, secluded and still, the house of the herdsman. A garden 
Girded it round about with a belt of luxuriant blossoms, 
Filling the air with fragrance. The house itself was of timbers 
Hewn from the cypress tree, and carefully fitted together. 
Large and low was the roof ; and on slender columns supported, 
Eose-wreathed, vine-encircled, a broad and spacious veranda, 
Haunt of the humming-bird and the bee, extended around it. 
At each end of the house, amid the flowers of the garden, 
Stationed the dovecots were, as love's perpetual symbol, 
Scenes of endless wooing, and endless contentions of rivals. 
Silence reigned o'er the place. The line of shadow and sunshine 
Ran near the tops of the trees; but the house itself was in 

shadow, 
And from its chimney-top, ascending and slowly expanding 
Into the evening air, a thin blue column of smoke rose. 
In the rear of the house, from the garden gate, ran a pathway 
Through the great groves of oak to the skirts of the limitless 

prairie, 
Into whose sea of flowers the sun was slowly descending. 
Full in his track of light, like ships with shadowy canvas 



438 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Hanging loose from their spars in a motionless calm in the tropics, 
Stood a cluster of trees, with tangled cordage of grapevines. 

Just where the woodlands met the flowery surf of the prairie, 

Mounted upon his horse, with Spanish saddle and stirrups, 

Sat a herdsman, arrayed in gaiters and doublet of deerskin. 

Broad and brown was the face that from under the Spanish som- 
brero 

Gazed on the peaceful scene, with the lordly look of its master. 

Round about him were numberless herds of kine that were 
grazing 

Quietly in the meadows, and breathing the vapory freshness 

That uprose from the river, and spread itself over the landscape. 

Slowly lifting the horn that hung at his side, and expanding 

Fully his broad, deep chest, he blew a blast, that resounded 

Wildly and sweet and far, through the still, damp air of the 
evening. 

Suddenly out of the grass the long white horns of the cattle 

Rose like flakes of foam on the adverse currents of ocean. 

Silent a moment they gazed, then bellowing rushed o'er the 
prairie, 

And the whole mass became a cloud, a shade in the distance. 

Then, as the herdsman turned to the house, through the gate of 
the garden 

Saw he the forms of the priest and the maiden advancing to 
meet him. 

Suddenly down from his horse he sprang in amazement, and for- 
ward 

Rushed with extended arms and exclamations of wonder ; 

When they beheld his face, they recognized Basil the blacksmith. 

Hearty his welcome was, as he led his guests to the garden. 

There in an arbor of roses with endless question and answer 

Gave they vent to their hearts, and renewed their friendly em- 
braces, 

Laughing and weeping by turns, or sitting silent and thoughtful. 



EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE 439 

Thoughtful, for Gabriel came not; and now dark doubts and 

misgivings 
Stole o'er the maiden's heart, and Basil, somewhat embarrassed, 
Broke the silence and said, ' ' If you came by the Atchaf alaya, 
How have you nowhere encountered my Gabriel's boat on the 

bayous?" 
Over Evangeline's face at the words of Basil a shade passed. 
Tears came into her eyes, and she said, with a tremulous accent, 
1 ' Gone ? Is Gabriel gone ? ' ' and, concealing her face on his shoul- 
der, 
All her o 'erburdened heart gave way, and she wept and lamented. 
Then the good Basil said — and his voice grew blithe as he said 

it— 
' * Be of good cheer, my child ; it is only today he departed. 
Foolish boy ! he has left me alone with my herds and my horses. 
Moody and restless grown, and tired and troubled, his spirit 
Could no longer endure the calm of this quiet existence. 
Thinking ever of thee, uncertain and sorrowful ever, 
Ever silent, or speaking only of thee and his troubles, 
He at length had become so tedious to men and to maidens, 
Tedious even to me, that at length I bethought me, and sent him 
Unto the town of Adayes to trade for mules with the Spaniards. 
Thence he will follow the Indian trails to the Ozark Mountains, 
Hunting for furs in the forests, on rivers trapping the beaver. 
Therefore be of good cheer ; we will follow the fugitive lover ; 
He is not far on his way, and the Fates and the streams are 

against him. 
Up and away tomorrow, and through the red dew of the morning, 
We will follow him fast, and bring him back to his prison. ' ' 

Then glad voices were heard, and up from the banks of the 
river, 
Borne aloft on his comrades' arms, came Michael the fiddler. 
Long under Basil's roof had he lived, like a god on Olympus, 
Having no other care than dispensing music to mortals. 



440 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Far renowned was he for his silver locks and his fiddle. 
' ' Long live Michael, ' ' they cried, ' ' our brave Acadian minstrel ! ' ' 
As they bore him aloft in triumphal procession ; and straightway 
Father Felician advanced with Evangeline, greeting the old man 
Kindly and oft, and recalling the past, while Basil, enraptured, 
Hailed with hilarious joy his old companions and gossips, 
Laughing loud and long, and embracing mothers and daughters. 
Much they marveled to see the wealth of the ci-devant black- 
smith, 
All his domains and his herds, and his patriarchal demeanor; 
Much they marveled to hear his tales of the soil and the climate, 
And of the prairies, whose numberless herds were his who would 

take them; 
Each one thought in his heart that he, too, would go and do like- 
wise. 
Thus they ascended the steps, and, crossing the breezy veranda, 
Entered the hall of the house, where already the supper of Basil 
Waited his late return ; and they rested and feasted together. 

Over the joyous feast the sudden darkness descended. 

All was silent without ; and, illuming the landscape with silver, 

Fair rose the dewy moon and the myriad stars ; but within doors, 

Brighter than these, shone the faces of friends in the glimmering 
lamplight. 

Then from his station aloft, at the head of the table, the herds- 
man 

Poured forth his heart and his wine together in endless profusion. 

Lighting his pipe, that was filled with sweet Natchitoches to- 
bacco, 

Thus he spake to his guests, who listened, and smiled as they 
listened : 

' ' Welcome once more, my friends, who so long have been friend- 
less and homeless, 

Welcome once more to a home, that is better perchance than 
the old one! 



EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE 441 

Here no hungry winter congeals our blood like the rivers ; 

Here no stony ground provokes the wrath of the farmer ; 

Smoothly the plowshare runs through the soil, as a keel through 
the water. 

All the year round the orange-groves are in blossom; and grass 
grows 

More in a single night than a whole Canadian summer. 

Here, too, numberless herds run wild and unclaimed in the 
prairies ; 

Here, too, lands may be had for the asking, and forests of timber 

With a few blows of the ax are hewn and framed into houses. 

After your houses are built, and your fields are yellow with har- 
vests, 

No King George of England shall drive you away from your 
homesteads, 

Burning your dwellings and barns, and stealing your farms and 
your cattle.' ' 

Speaking these words, he blew a wrathful cloud from his nostrils, 

And his huge, brawny hand came thundering down on the table, 

So that the guests all started; and Father Felician, astounded, 

Suddenly paused, with a pinch of snuff halfway to his nostrils. 

But the brave Basil resumed, and his words were milder and 
gayer : 

' ' Only beware of the fever, my friends, beware of the fever ! 

For it is not like that of our cold Acadian climate, 

Cured by wearing a spider hung around one 's neck in a nutshell ! ' ' 

Then there were voices heard at the door, and footsteps approach- 
ing 

Sounded upon the stairs and the floor of the breezy veranda. 

It was the neighboring Creoles and small Acadian planters, 

"Who had been summoned all to the house of Basil the herdsman. 

Merry the meeting was of ancient comrades and neighbors. 

Friend clasped friend in his arms ; and they who before were as 
strangers, 

Meeting in exile, became straightway as friends to each other, 



442 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Drawn by the gentle bond of a common country together. 
But in the neighboring hall a strain of music, proceeding 
From the accordant strings of Michael's melodious fiddle, 
Broke up all further speech. Away, like children delighted, 
All things forgotten beside, they gave themselves to the mad- 
dening 
Whirl of the dizzy dance, as it swept and swayed to the music, 
Dreamlike, with beaming eyes and the rush of fluttering gar- 
ments. 

Meanwhile, apart, at the head of the hall, the priest and the 
herdsman 
Sat, conversing together of past and present and future; 
While Evangeline stood like one entranced, for within her 
Olden memories rose, and loud in the midst of the music 
Heard she the sound of the sea, and an irrepressible sadness 
Came o 'er her heart, and unseen she stole forth into the garden. 
Beautiful was the night. Behind the black wall of the forest, 
Tipping its summit with silver, arose the moon. On the river 
Fell here and there through the branches a tremulous gleam of 

the moonlight, 
Like the sweet thoughts of love on a darkened and devious 

spirit. 
Nearer and round about her, the manifold flowers of the garden 
Poured out their souls in odors, that were their prayers and con- 
fessions 
Unto the night, as it went its way, like a silent Carthusian. 
Fuller of fragrance than they, and as heavy with shadows and 

night-dews, 
Hung the heart of the maiden. The calm and the magical moon- 
light 
Seemed to inundate her soul with indefinable longings, 
As, through the garden gate, beneath the brown shade of the 
oak trees, 



EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE 443 

Passed she along the path to the edge of the measureless prairie. 
Silent it lay, with a silvery haze upon it, and fireflies 
Gleaming and floating away in mingled and infinite numbers. 
Over her head the stars, the thoughts of God in the heavens, 
Shone on the eyes of man, who had ceased to marvel and wor- 
ship, 
Save when a blazing comet was seen on the walls of that temple, 
As if a hand had appeared and written upon them, " Upharsin. ' ' 
And the soul of the maiden, between the stars and the fireflies, 
Wandered alone, and she cried, ' ' Gabriel ! my beloved ! 
Art thou so near unto me, and yet I cannot behold thee ? 
Art thou so near unto me, and yet thy voice does not reach me ? 
Ah ! how often thy feet have trod this path to the prairie ! 
Ah ! how often thine eyes have looked on the woodlands around 

me! 
Ah ! how often beneath this oak, returning from labor, 
Thou hast lain down to rest, and to dream of me in thy slum- 
bers! 
When shall these eyes behold, these arms be folded about thee ? ' ' 
Loud and sudden and near, the note of a whippoorwill sounded 
Like a flute in the woods; and anon, through the neighboring 

thickets, 
Farther and farther away it floated and dropped into silence. 
' ' Patience ! ' ' whispered the oaks from oracular caverns of dark- 
ness; 
And, from the moonlight meadow, a sigh responded, "Tomor- 
row!" 

Bright rose the sun next day ; and all the flowers of the garden 
Bathed his shining feet with their tears, and anointed his tresses 
With the delicious balm that they bore in their vases of crystal. 
' ' Farewell ! ' ' said the priest, as he stood at the shadowy threshold ; 
"See that you bring us the Prodigal Son from his fasting and 
famine, 



444 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

And, too, the Foolish Virgin, who slept when the bridegroom was 
coming. ' ' 

' ' Farewell ! ' ' answered the maiden, and smiling, with Basil de- 
scended 

Down to the river's brink, where the boatmen already were wait- 
ing. 

Thus beginning their journey with morning, and sunshine, and 
gladness, 

Swiftly they followed the flight of him who was speeding before 
them, 

Blown by the blast of fate like a dead leaf over the desert. 

Not that day, nor the next, nor yet the day that succeeded, 

Found they trace of his course, in lake or forest or river. 

Nor, after many days, had they found him; but vague and un- 
certain 

Rumors alone were their guides through a wild and desolate 
country ; 

Till, at the little inn of the Spanish town of Adayes, 

Weary and worn, they alighted, and learned from the garrulous 
landlord 

That on the day before, with horses and guides and companions, 

Gabriel left the village, and took the road of the prairies. 

rv 

Far in the West there lies a desert land, where the mountains 

Lift, through perpetual snows, their lofty and luminous summits. 

Down from their jagged, deep ravines, where the gorge, like a 
gateway, 

Opens a passage rude to the wheels of the emigrant's wagon, 

Westward the Oregon flows, and the Walleway and Owyhee. 

Eastward, with devious course, among the Wind River Moun- 
tains, 

Through the Sweetwater Valley precipitate leaps the Nebraska ; 

And to the south, from Fontaine-qui-bout and the Spanish 
Sierras, 



EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE 445 

Fretted with sands and rocks, and swept by the wind of the 

desert, 
Numberless torrents, with ceaseless sound, descend to the ocean, 
Like the great chords of a harp, in loud and solemn vibrations. 
Spreading between these streams are the wondrous, beautiful 

prairies, 
Billowy bays of grass ever rolling in shadow and sunshine, 
Bright with luxuriant clusters of roses and purple amorphas. 
Over them wander the buffalo herds, and the elk and the roebuck ; 
Over them wander the wolves, and herds of riderless horses ; 
Fires that blast and blight, and winds that are weary with 

travel ; 
Over them wander the scattered tribes of Ishmael's children, 
Staining the desert with blood; and above their terrible war- 
trails 
Circles and sails aloft, on pinions majestic, the vulture, 
Like the implacable soul of a chieftain slaughtered in battle, 
By invisible stairs ascending and scaling the heavens. 
Here and there rise smokes from the camps of these savage 

marauders ; 
Here and there rise groves from the margins of swift-running 

rivers ; 
And the grim, taciturn bear, the anchorite monk of the desert, 
Climbs down their dark ravines to dig for roots by the brookside ; 
And over all is the sky, the clear and crystalline heaven, 
Like the protecting hand of God inverted above them. 



Into this wonderful land, at the base of the Ozark Mountains, 
Gabriel far had entered, with hunters and trappers behind him. 
Day after day, with their Indian guides, the maiden and Basil 
Followed his flying steps, and thought each day to o 'ertake him. 
Sometimes they saw, or thought they saw, the smoke of his camp 

fire 
Rise in the morning air from the distant plain ; but at nightfall, 



446 



ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 




"When they had reached the place, they found only embers and 

ashes. 
And, though their hearts were sad at times and their bodies were 

weary, 
Hope still guided them on, as the magic Fata Morgana 
Showed them her lakes of light, that retreated and vanished 

before them. 



Once, as they sat by their evening fire, there silently entered 
Into the little camp an Indian woman, whose features 
Wore deep traces of sorrow, and patience as great as her sorrow. 
She was a Shawnee woman returning home to her people, 
From the far-off hunting grounds of the cruel Comanches, 
WTiere her Canadian husband, a coureur-des-bois, had been mur- 
dered. 
Touched were their hearts at her story, and warmest and friend- 
liest welcome 
Gave they, with words of cheer, and she sat and feasted among 
them 



EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE 447 

On the buffalo meat and the venison cooked on the embers. 
But when their meal was done, and Basil and all his companions, 
Worn with the long day's march and the chase of the deer and 

the bison, 
Stretched themselves on the ground, and slept where the quiver- 
ing firelight 
Flashed on their swarthy cheeks, and their forms wrapped up 

in their blankets, 
Then at the door of Evangeline's tent she sat and repeated 
Slowly, with soft, low voice, and the charm of her Indian accent, 
All the tale of her love, with its pleasures, and pains, and re- 
verses. 
Much Evangeline wept at the tale, and to know that another 
Hapless heart like her own had loved and had been disappointed. 
Moved to the depths of her soul by pity and woman's com- 
passion, 
Yet in her sorrow pleased that one who had suffered was near her, 
She in turn related her love and all its disasters. 
Mute with wonder the Shawnee sat, and when she had ended, 
Still was mute; but at length, as if a mysterious horror 
Passed through her brain, she spake, and repeated the tale of 

the Mowis ; 
Mowis, the bridegroom of snow, who won and wedded a maiden, 
But, when the morning came, arose and passed from the wigwam, 
Fading and melting away and dissolving into the sunshine, 
Till she beheld him no more, though she followed far into the 

forest. 
Then, in those sweet, low tones, that seemed like a weird incan- 
tation, 
Told she the tale of the fair Lilinau, who was wooed by a phan- 
tom, 
That, through the pines o 'er her father 's lodge, in the hush of the 

twilight 
Breathed like the evening wind, and whispered love to the 

maiden, 
Till she followed his green and waving plume through the forest, 



448 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

And nevermore returned, nor was seen again by her people. 
Silent with wonder and strange surprise, Evangeline listened 
To the soft flow of her magical words, till the region around her 
Seemed like enchanted ground, and her swarthy guest the en- 
chantress. 
Slowly over the tops of the Ozark Mountains the moon rose, 
Lighting the little tent, and with a mysterious splendor 
Touching the somber leaves, and embracing and filling the wood- 
land. 
With a delicious sound the brook rushed by, and the branches 
Swayed and sighed overhead in scarcely audible whispers. 
Filled with the thoughts of love was Evangeline's heart, but a 

secret, 
Subtle sense crept in of pain and indefinite terror, 
As the cold, poisonous snake creeps into the nest of the swallow. 
It was no earthly fear. A breath from the region of spirits 
Seemed to float in the air of night; and she felt for a moment 
That, like the Indian maid, she, too, was pursuing a phantom. 
And with this thought she slept, and the fear and the phantom 
had vanished. 

Early upon the morrow the march was resumed, and the 

Shawnee 
Said, as they journeyed along — "On the western slope of these 

mountains 
Dwells in his little village the Black Robe chief of the Mission. 
Much he teaches the people, and tells them of Mary and Jesus ; 
Loud laugh their hearts with joy, and weep with pain, as they 

hear him." 
Then, with a sudden and secret emotion, Evangeline answered, 
' ' Let us go to the Mission, for there good tidings await us 1 ' ' 
Thither they turned their steeds; and behind a spur of the 

mountains, 
Just as the sun went down, they heard a murmur of voices, 
And in a meadow green and broad, by the bank of a river, 
Saw the tents of the Christians, the tents of the Jesuit Mission. 



EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE 449 

Under a towering oak, that stood in the midst of the village, 
Knelt the Black Robe chief with his children. A crucifix fas- 
tened 
High on the trunk of the tree, and overshadowed by grapevines, 
Looked with its agonized face on the multitude kneeling be- 
neath it. 
This was their rural chapel. Aloft, through the intricate arches 
Of its aerial roof, arose the chant of their vespers, 
Mingling its notes with the soft susurrous and sighs of the 

branches. 
Silent, with heads uncovered, the travelers, nearer approaching, 
Knelt on the swarded floor, and joined in the evening devotions. 
But when the service was done, and the benediction had fallen 
Forth from the hands of the priest, like seed from the hands of 

the sower, 
Slowly the reverend man advanced to the strangers, and bade 

them 
Welcome; and when they replied, he smiled with benignant ex- 
pression, 
Hearing the homelike sounds of his mother tongue in the forest, 
And, with words of kindness, conducted them into his wigwam. 
There upon mats and skins they reposed, and on cakes of the 

maize-ear 
Feasted, and slaked their thirst from the water-gourd of the 

teacher. 
Soon was their story told; and the priest with solemnity an- 
swered : 
"Not six suns have risen and set since Gabriel, seated 
On this mat by my side, where now the maiden reposes, 
Told me this same sad tale; then arose and continued his jour- 
ney!" 
Soft was the voice of the priest, and he spake with an accent of 

kindness ; 
But on Evangeline 's heart fell his words as in winter the snow- 
flakes 
Fall into some lone nest from which the birds have departed. 



450 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE—BOOK TWO 

1 1 Far to the north he has gone, ' ' continued the priest ; ' ' but in 

autumn, 
When the chase is done, will return again to the Mission." 
Then Evangeline said, and her voice was meek and submissive, 
"Let me remain with thee, for my soul is sad and afflicted." 
So seemed it wise and well unto all ; and betimes on the morrow, 
Mounting his Mexican steed, with his Indian guides and com- 
panions, 
Homeward Basil returned, and Evangeline stayed at the Mission. 



Slowly, slowly, slowly the days succeeded each other — 
Days and weeks and months; and the fields of maize that were 

springing 
Green from the ground when a stranger she came, now waving 

above her, 
Lifted their slender shafts, with leaves interlacing, and forming 
Cloisters for mendicant crows and granaries pillaged by squirrels. 
Then in the golden weather the maize was husked, and the 

maidens 
Blushed at each blood-red ear, for that betokened a lover, 
But at the crooked laughed, and called it a thief in the cornfield. 
Even the blood-red ear to Evangeline brought not her lover. 
1 1 Patience ! ' ' the priest would say, ' ' have faith, and thy prayer 

will be answered ! 
Look at this delicate plant that lifts its head from the meadow, 
See how its leaves all point to the north, as true as the magnet ; 
It is the compass-flower, that the finger of God has suspended 
Here on its fragile stalk to direct the traveler's journey 
Over the sea-like, pathless, limitless waste of the desert. 
Such in the soul of man is faith. The blossoms of passion, 
Gay and luxuriant flowers, are brighter and fuller of fragrance, 
But they beguile us and lead us astray, and their odor is deadly. 
Only this humble plant can guide us here, and hereafter 
Crown us with asphodel flowers, that are wet with the dews of 

nepenthe." 



EVANGELINE : A TALE OF ACADIE 451 

So came the autumn, and passed, and the winter — yet Gabriel 
came not ; 
Blossomed the opening spring, and the notes of the robin and 

bluebird 
Sounded sweet upon wold and in wood, yet Gabriel came not. 
But on the breath of the summer winds a rumor was wafted 
Sweeter than song of bird, or hue or odor of blossom. 
Far to the north and east, it said, in the Michigan forests, 
Gabriel had his lodge by the banks of the Saginaw River. 
And, with returning guides, that sought the lakes of St. Lawrence, 
Saying a sad farewell, Evangeline went from the Mission. 
When over weary ways, by long and perilous marches, 
She had attained at length the depths of the Michigan forests, 
Found she the hunter 's lodge deserted and fallen to ruin ! 

Thus did the long sad years glide on, and in seasons and places 
Divers and distant far was seen the wandering maiden : 
Now in the Tents of Grace of the meek Moravian Missions, 
Now in the noisy camps and the battlefields of the army, 
Now in secluded hamlets, in towns and populous cities. 
Like a phantom she came, and passed away unremembered. 
Fair was she and young when in hope began the long journey; 
Faded was she and old when in disappointment it ended. 
Each succeeding year stole something away from her beauty, 
Leaving behind it, broader and deeper, the gloom and the shadow. 
Then there appeared and spread faint streaks of gray o'er her 

forehead, 
Dawn of another life, that broke o 'er her earthly horizon, 
As in the eastern sky the first faint streaks of the morning. 



In that delightful land which is washed by the Delaware's 
waters, 
Guarding in sylvan shades the name of Penn the apostle, 
Stands on the banks of its beautiful stream the city he founded. 
There all the air is balm, and the peach is the emblem of beauty, 



452 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

And the streets still re-echo the names of the trees of the forest, 
As if they fain would appease the Dryads whose haunts they 

molested. 
There from the troubled sea had Evangeline landed, an exile, 
Finding among the children of Penn a home and a country. 
There old Rene Leblanc had died ; and when he departed, 
Saw at his side only one of all his hundred descendants. 
Something at least there was in the friendly streets of the city, 
Something that spake to her heart, and made her no longer a 

stranger ; 
And her ear was pleased with the Thee and Thou of the Quakers, 
For it recalled the past, the old Acadian country, 
Where all men were equal, and all were brothers and sisters. 
So, when the fruitless search, the disappointed endeavor, 
Ended, to recommence no more upon earth, uncomplaining, 
Thither, as leaves to the light, were turned her thoughts and her 

footsteps. 
As from a mountain 's top the rainy mists of the morning 
Roll, away, and afar we behold the landscape below us, 
Sun-illumined, with shining rivers and cities and hamlets, 
So fell the mists from her mind, and she saw the world far below 

her, 
Dark no longer, but all illumined with love; and the pathway 
Which she had climbed so far, lying smooth and fair in the dis- 
tance. 
Gabriel was not forgotten. Within her heart was his image, 
Clothed in the beauty of love and youth, as last she beheld him, 
Only more beautiful made by his deathlike silence and absence. 
Into her thoughts of him time entered not, for it was not. 
Over him years had no power; he was not changed, but trans- 
figured ; 
He had become to her heart as one who is dead, and not absent; 
Patience and abnegation of self, and devotion to others, 
This was the lesson a life of trial and sorrow had taught her. 
So was her love diffused, but, like to some odorous spices, 
Suffered no waste nor loss, though filling the air with aroma. 



EVANGELINE : A TALE OF AC ADIE 453 

Other hope had she none, nor wish in life, but to follow, 
Meekly with reverent steps, the sacred feet of her Savior. 
Thus many years she lived as a Sister of Mercy ; frequenting 
Lonely and wretched roofs in the crowded lanes of the city, 
Where distress and want concealed themselves from the sunlight, 
Where disease and sorrow in garrets languished neglected. 
Night after night when the world was asleep, as the watchman 

repeated 
Loud, through the gusty streets, that all was well in the city, 
High at some lonely window he saw the light of her taper. 
Day after day, in the gray of the dawn, as slow through the 

suburbs 
Plodded the German farmer, with flowers and fruits for the 

market, 
Met he that meek, pale face, returning home from its watchings. 

Then it came to pass that a pestilence fell on that city, 
Presaged by wondrous signs, and mostly by flocks of wild pigeons, 
Darkening the sun in their flight, with naught in their craws but 

an acorn; 
And, as the tides of the sea arise in the month of September, 
Flooding some silver stream, till it spreads to a lake in the 

meadow, 
So death flooded life, and, o 'erflowing its natural margin, 
Spread to a brackish lake the silver stream of existence. 
Wealth had no power to bribe, nor beauty to charm, the op- 
pressor ; 
But all perished alike beneath the scourge of his anger ; 
Only, alas ! the poor, who had neither friends nor attendants, 
Crept away to die in the almshouse, home of the homeless. 
Then in the suburbs it stood, in the midst of meadows and wood- 
lands ; 
Now the city surrounds it ; but still, with its gateway and wicket 
Meek, in the midst of splendor, its humble walls seem to echo 
Softly the words of the Lord : ' ' The poor you always have with 
you." 



454 



ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 




Thither, by night and by day, came the Sister of Mercy. The 

dying 
Looked up into her face, and thought, indeed, to behold there 
Gleams of celestial light encircle her forehead with splendor, 
Such as the artist paints o 'er the brows of saints and apostles, 
Or such as hangs by night o'er a city seen at a distance. 
Unto their eyes it seemed the lamps of the city celestial, 
Into whose shining gates erelong their spirits would enter. 



Thus, on a Sabbath morn, through the streets, deserted and 

silent, 
Wending her quiet way, she entered the door of the almshouse. 
Sweet on the summer air was the odor of flowers in the garden, 
And she paused on her way to gather the fairest among them, 
That the dying once more might rejoice in their fragrance and 

beauty. 
Then, as she mounted the stairs to the corridors, cooled by the 

east wind, 



EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE 455 

Distant and soft on her ear fell the chimes from the belfry of 

Christ Church, 
While, intermingled with these, across the meadows were wafted 
Sounds of psalms, that were sung by the Swedes in their church 

at Wicaco. 
Soft as descending wings fell the calm of the hour on her spirit ; 
Something within her said, ' ' At length thy trials are ended ' ' ; 
And, with light in her looks, she entered the chambers of sickness. 
Noiselessly moved about the assiduous, careful attendants, 
Moistening the feverish lip and the aching brow, and in silence 
Closing the sightless eyes of the dead, and concealing their faces, 
Where on their pallets they lay, like drifts of snow by the road- 
side. 
Many a languid head, upraised as Evangeline entered, 
Turned on its pillow of pain to gaze while she passed, for her 

presence 
Fell on their hearts like a ray of the sun on the walls of a prison. 
And, as she looked around, she saw how Death, the consoler, 
Laying his hand upon many a heart, had healed it forever. 
Many familiar forms had disappeared in the nighttime ; 
Vacant their places were, or filled already by strangers. 

Suddenly, as if arrested by fear or a feeling of wonder, 
Still she stood, with her colorless lips apart, while a shudder 
Ran through her frame, and, forgotten, the flowerets dropped 

from her fingers, 
And from her eyes and cheeks the light and bloom of the morn- 
ing-. 
Then there escaped from her lips a cry of such terrible anguish 
That the dying heard it, and started up from their pillows. 
On the pallet before her was stretched the form of an old man. 
Long, and thin, and gray were the locks that shaded his temples ; 
But, as he lay in the morning light, his face for a moment 
Seemed to assume once more the forms of its earlier manhood ; 
So are wont to be changed the faces of those who are dying. 
Hot and red on his lips still burned the flush of the fever, 



456 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

As if life, like the Hebrew, with blood had besprinkled its portals, 
That the Angel of Death might see the sign, and pass over. 
Motionless, senseless, dying, he lay, and his spirit exhausted 
Seemed to be sinking down through infinite depths in the dark- 
ness, 
Darkness of slumber and death, forever sinking and sinking. 
Then through those realms of shade, in multiplied reverberations, 
Heard he that cry of pain, and through the hush that succeeded 
Whispered a gentle voice, in accents tender and saintlike, 
' ' Gabriel ! my beloved ! ' ' and died away into silence. 
Then he beheld, in a dream, once more the home of his childhood : 
Green Acadian meadows, with sylvan rivers among them, 
Village, and mountain, and woodlands; and, walking under their 

shadow, 
As in the days of her youth, Evangeline rose in his vision. 
Tears came into his eyes ; and as slowly he lifted his eyelids, 
Vanished the vision away, but Evangeline knelt by his bedside. 
Vainly he strove to whisper her name, for the accents unuttered 
Died on his lips, and their motion revealed what his tongue would 

have spoken. 
Vainly he strove to rise ; and Evangeline, kneeling beside him, 
Kissed his dying lips, and laid his head on her bosom. 
Sweet was the light of his eyes ; but it suddenly sank into dark- 
ness, 
As when a lamp is blown out by a gust of wind at a casement. 

All was ended now, the hope, and the fear, and the sorrow, 
All the aching of heart, the restless, unsatisfied longing, 
All the dull, deep pain, and constant anguish of patience ! 
And, as she pressed once more the lifeless head to her bosom, 
Meekly she bowed her own, and murmured, "Father, I thank 
thee!" 

Still stands the forest primeval ; but far away from its shadow, 
Side by side, in their nameless graves, the lovers are sleeping. 
Under the humble walls of the little Catholic churchyard, 



EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE 457 

In the heart of the city, they lie, unknown and unnoticed. 
Daily the tides of life go ebbing and flowing beside them : 
Thousands of throbbing hearts, where theirs are at rest and 

forever ; 
Thousands of aching brains, where theirs no longer are busy ; 
Thousands of toiling hands, where theirs have ceased from their 

labors ; 
Thousands of weary feet, where theirs have completed their 

journey ! 

Still stands the forest primeval; but under the shade of its 
branches 
Dwells another race, with other customs and language. 
Only along the shore of the mournful and misty Atlantic 
Linger a few Acadian peasants, whose fathers from exile 
Wandered back to their native land to die in its bosom. 
In the fisherman's cot the wheel and the loom are still busy; 
Maidens still wear their Norman caps and their kirtles of home- 
spun, 
And by the evening fire repeat Evangeline 's story, 
While from its rocky caverns the deep-voiced, neighboring ocean 
Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest. 

Notes and Questions 

At a dinner at Craigie House, Longfellow's home in Cambridge, 
Reverend H. L. Conoely repeated the following legend he had heard 
from a French Canadian: 

"On the marriage-day of a young couple in Acadie all of the men in 
the Province were summoned to assemble in the church to hear a procla- 
mation. They were all then seized and shipped off to various places in 
New England — the new bridegroom was among their number. His 
bride spent her lifetime wandering about in search of him, and finally, 
when old age had come upon her, she found him on his deathbed. The 
shock was so great that it killed her." 

Hawthorne, who was also present at the dinner and had previously 
heard the story, showed but little interest in it, and readily gave his 
consent to Longfellow to use the plot. Later Hawthorne read the poem 



458 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Evangeline, and wrote to Longfellow that he had read it "with more 
pleasure than it would be decorous to express." 

The conflict for supremacy between the French and the English is a 
part of the early history of Nova Scotia, which was called Acadia by 
the French. The Acadians were French in their blood and in their 
sympathies, though the English were from time to time in authority over 
the country. At one time the English demanded an oath of allegiance 
from the Acadians. This they refused to take unless it should be so 
modified as to exempt them from bearing arms against France. It was 
finally decided to remove the Acadians from the country, and to scatter 
them throughout the American colonies. Accordingly, they were driven 
on board the English transports, and three thousand of them banished 
(1755). In the confusion, families and friends were separated, in many 
cases never to meet again. 

THE STORY 

1. Without referring to your book, complete the following exercises : 

(a) Name and locate each of the main characters in the story. 
For example, Gabriel, son of the blacksmith. 

(b) What is the point of highest interest, or climax, in this 
story? 

(c) Trace the plot of Evangeline from the departure of the 
exiles to the conclusion of the story. 

(d) Describe in your own words Longfellow's setting for the 
story. 

(e) When did the events related in Evangeline actually take 
place ? 

(/) What facts does the poet bring out in the brief conclusion? 

2. Contrast the appearance of Evangeline, the pride of the village, 
with the picture of Evangeline, the Sister of Mercy. Read aloud lines 
to show how skillfully the poet paints these two pictures for you. 

3. In what four lines is the theme of the whole story definitely stated ? 
(See Prelude.) 

4. The love story is the background for the central thought of the 
poem; state this thought in one sentence. What lesson does the poet 
teach you in this poem? 

5. List the qualities of Evangeline that made it possible for her to 
catch and hold your interest. 



EVANGELINE: A TALE OF ACADIE 459 

6. Make a written report of not more than one page on one of the 
following topics. (Use quotations from the poem in these essays.) 

(a) A character sketch of Evangeline, Basil, Gabriel, or Benedict 

(b) Evangeline as a Sister of Mercy 

(c) The great lesson Longfellow teaches in this poem 

7. Make an oral report on one of these topics : 

(a) Trace the wanderings of Evangeline in her search for her 
lover, keeping the events in correct order 

(b) The stories of the Shawnee squaw 

(c) Contrast the character of Basil with that of Benedict 

(d) Flowers and birds mentioned in the poem 

You may enjoy reading Stories of the Land of Evangeline, Rogers. 

FOR ORAL READING IN CLASS 

1. Read aloud: 

(a) The description of the little village of Grand-Pre. 

(&) Lines describing gentle Evangeline, the pride of the village. 

(c) Longfellow's word-picture of that beautiful season called 
"the Summer of All-Saints." 

(d) The conversation which took place between Benedict Belle- 
fontaine and Basil, the blacksmith, on "the night of the 
contract." 

(e) The author's word-picture of the lakes of Atchafalaya. 

(/) The description of the welcome given to Evangeline and the 
priest at the home of Basil, the herdsman. 

2. Select lines you like very much and be prepared to read them aloud 
to the class so as to bring out their full meaning and beauty. 

3. Choose to read aloud lines which bring out the character of : 

(a) Father Felician 

(b) Basil, the blacksmith 

(c) Rene Leblanc, the notary 

4. Find and be prepared to read aloud lines describing the personal 
appearance of: 

(a) Gabriel 

(b) Michael, the fiddler 

(c) Benedict Belief ontaine 



460 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

MEMORIZATION WORK IN CLASS 

1. Choose the description you most enjoy in this poem and memorize 
it. Select at least two speeches made by characters in the poem, and 
memorize them. 

2. Memory Test: Locate from memory the following quotations, and 
tell who said each one: 

(a) "Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst picked up a 
horseshoe." 

(b) "Perhaps some friendlier purpose brings these ships to our 
shores." 

(c) "Must we in all things look for the how, and the why, and 
the wherefore?" 

(d) "Painful the task is I do, which to you I know must be 
grievous." 

(e) "Down with the tyrants of England! We never have sworn 
them allegiance!" 

(/) "Have you so soon forgotten all lessons of love and forgive- 
ness?" 
(g) "Talk not of wasted affection; affection never was wasted." 
(h) "Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is 

godlike." 
(i) "Let me remain with thee, for my soul is sad and afflicted." 
(j) "Patience! have faith, and thy prayer will be answered!" 

DRAMATIZATION 

It will be simple and interesting for you to dramatize parts of this 
poem. For example: 

(a) The scene within the farmhouse on the evening the marriage 
contract was signed 

( b ) The feast of the betrothal of Evangeline and Gabriel 

(c) The presentation of the "royal commission" 

(d) The departure of the exiles 

(e) The reunion of old friends at the Louisiana home of Basil, 
the herdsman 

(/) Evangeline, the Sister of Mercy 
The pictures given in your book will be helpful in planning stage 
effects and costumes for the characters. If the dramatization is well 
done, you may enjoy presenting some of the scenes before other classes. 



THE EAVEN 

Edgar Allan Poe 

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, 
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore — 
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, 
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. 
" 'Tis some visitor, ' ' I muttered, ' ' tapping at my chamber door — 
Only this and nothing more. ' ' 

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, 
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. 
Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow 
From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore. 
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore : 
Nameless here forevermore. 

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain 
Thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before ; 
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating : 
" 'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door, 
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door — 
This it is and nothing more. ' ' 

Presently my soul grew stronger, hesitating then no longer, 
1 ' Sir, ' ' said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore ; 
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, 
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, 
That I scarce was sure I heard you" — here I opened wide the 
door — 

Darkness there and nothing more. 
461 



462 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, 

fearing, 
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream 

before ; 
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token, 
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, 

"Lenore?" 
This I whispered; and an echo murmured back the word, 

"Lenore"— 

Merely this and nothing more. 

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, 
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. 
' ' Surely, ' ' said I, ' ' surely that is something at my window lattice ; 
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore ; 
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore — 
'Tis the wind and nothing more." 

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, 
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore. 
Not the least obeisance made he ; not a minute stopped or stayed 

he; 
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door, 
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door — 
Perched, and sat, and nothing more. 

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling 

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore — 

' ' Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou, ' ' I said, ' ' art sure 

no craven, 
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly 

shore ; 
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night 's Plutonian shore ! ' ' 
Quoth the Raven, ' ' Nevermore. ' ' 



THE RAVEN 463 

Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, 
Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore ; 
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being 
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door, 
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, 
With such name as ' ' Nevermore. ' ' 

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only 
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour ; 
Nothing further then he uttered ; not a feather then he fluttered, 
Till I scarcely more than muttered, "Other friends have flown 

before ; 
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before. ' ' 
Then the bird said, ' ' Nevermore. ' ' 

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, 
1 ' Doubtless, ' ' said I ' ' what it utters is its only stock and store, 
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster 
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore ; 
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore 
Of 'Never — nevermore.' " 

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling, 
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and 

door; 
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking 
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore, 
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of 

yore, 

Meant in croaking, "Nevermore. 



j y 



This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing 
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; 
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining 
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamplight gloated o'er, 



464 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

But whose velvet violet lining with the lamplight gloating o'er 
She shall press, ah, nevermore ! 

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen 

censer 
Swung by seraphim whose footfalls tinkled on the tufted floor. 
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee — by these angels he 

hath sent thee 
Respite — respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore ! 
Quaff, oh, quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore ! ' ' 
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." 

' ' Prophet ! ' ' said I, ' ' thing of evil ! prophet still, if bird or devil ! 
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here 

ashore, 
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted — ■ 
On this home by Horror haunted — tell me truly, I implore: 
Is there — is there balm in G-ilead f — tell me — tell me, I implore ! ' ' 
Quoth the Raven, ' ' Nevermore. ' ' 

' ' Prophet ! ' ' said I, ' ' thing of evil — prophet still, if bird or devil ! 
By that Heaven that bends above us, by that God we both adore, 
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, 
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore — 
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore ! ' ' 
Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." 

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, 

upstarting ; 
' ' Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore ! 
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken ! 
Leave my loneliness unbroken ! quit the bust above my door ! 
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off 

my door!" 

Quoth the Raven, ' ' Nevermore. ' ' 



THE RAVEN 465 

And the Kaven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting 
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door ; 
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon 's that is dreaming ; 
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the 

floor; 
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor 
Shall be lifted — nevermore ! 

Notes and Questions 

Edgar Allan Poe became, in his short life, a master of both prose and 
poetry. Bom in Boston, he was early left an orphan and was adopted 
by a Mr. Allan, a wealthy citizen of Richmond, Virginia. Poe was sent 
to school in London, and later he attended the University of Virginia 
and the military academy at West Point. Mr. Allan lavished money 
and other inducements upon him in vain efforts to get him to settle down 
to a permanent profession, but finally abandoned him to his own re- 
sources. From that time on, Poe eked out a living by publishing poems 
and tales, by contributions to newspapers and magazines, and by 
editorial work. But he was too erratic in his habits to retain long either 
positions or friends. His writings, like his character, were weird, mys- 
terious, haunted by brooding melancholy. But his poetry is perhaps the 
most purely musical of any in our language — for Poe believed that 
poetry should be the language of the feelings rather than of thought, 
and that it should therefore seek to produce its effects through "harmony 
of sweet sounds" rather than through the meaning of its lines. His prose 
tales of mystery and adventure are remarkable for their imaginative and 
poetic style ; they have served as models for many well-known writers. 

1. In "The Raven" Poe aimed to write a poem of just the right length 
to produce a single effect. He wished to have the poem express beauty, 
and beauty, he thought, in its highest form always has in it an element of 
sadness. The story of the poem, told in the first person in order to help 
make the effect real, is the story of a man, a student, who, mourning for 
his dead love and trying to find relief from his sorrow in his books, is sur- 
prised at midnight by a visit from a raven. Summoning his courage, lest 
the answer be negative, he asks the raven three questions that are upper- 
most in his mind : Will he ever be able to forget Lenore ? Will he ever 
again be comforted ? Will he ever meet Lenore again ? Find the stanzas 



466 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

in which these questions are asked and note the poetic effect of such 
words and phrases as, "nepenthe," "balm in Gilead" {Jeremiah 8 :22 and 
46:11), "Aidenn." What is the setting for the visit? 

2. The refrain, "Nothing more," "For evermore," "Nevermore," is 
most significant; notice its importance in the various stanzas and also 
how it determines the rime of the second, fourth, and fifth lines of every 
stanza throughout the entire poem. 

3. Poe, perhaps more than most poets, made use of melody in his 
verse. This poem illustrates admirably his feeling for the music of 
certain sounds and combinations of sounds. Find examples of allitera- 
tion, that is, the repetition of the same sound at the beginning of two 
or more words in close succession, as "nodded, nearly napping." Find 
lines in which Poe produces a musical effect by the repetition of words 
or phrases. Notice, also, the effect of the double rimes, like "dreary, 
weary," in the first and the third lines of every stanza. In the fourth 
line of every stanza, what word rimes with two words in another line? 
There are rimes, too, in unexpected places ; can you find examples ? Find 
words that give or suggest the sound described. Which line would you 
select as the most musical of all ? 

4. Poe's young wife, to whom he was affectionately devoted, was des- 
perately ill, and Poe may have uttered his own forebodings in "The 
Raven." The small house at Fordham, near New York, in which she 
died was a sharp contrast to the luxuriously furnished room described 
in the poem. Find lines that describe the room. 

5. A notebook record may be kept which may include a list of riming 
words of two syllables, alliterative phrases, words of unusual interest, 
and lines that are especially musical. 

6. A member of the class who is a ready reader may volunteer to 
make a report to the class on "The Philosophy of Composition," an 
essay in which Poe tells, step by step, just how he wrote "The Raven." 
After the report the members may discuss whether they think it possible 
that Poe wrote the poem in the manner he describes or whether he was 
merely writing an interesting essay. 



NEW YORK TO PARIS* 

Charles A. Lindbergh 

On the morning of May nineteenth a light rain was falling, 
and the sky was overcast. Weather reports from land stations 
and ships along the great circle course were unfavorable, and 
there was apparently no prospect of taking off for several days 
at least. In the morning I visited the Wright plant at Paterson, 
New Jersey, and had planned to attend a theater performance in 
New York that evening. But about six o 'clock I received a special 
report from the New York Weather Bureau. A high pressure 
area was over the entire North Atlantic, and the low pressure 
over Nova Scotia and Newfoundland was receding. The North 
Atlantic should be clear with only local storms on the coast of 
Europe. The moon had just passed full, and the percentage of 
days with fog over Newfoundland and the Grand Banks was 
increasing, so that there seemed to be no advantage in waiting 
longer. 

We went to Curtiss Field as quickly as possible and made 
arrangements for the barograph to be sealed and installed, and 
for the plane to be serviced and checked. We decided partially 
to fill the fuel tanks in the hangar before towing the ship on a 
truck to Roosevelt Field, which adjoins Curtiss on the east, where 
the servicing would be completed. 

I left the responsibility for conditioning the plane in the hands 
of the men on the field, while I went into the hotel for about two 
and one-half hours of rest; but at the hotel there were several 
more details which had to be completed, and I was unable to get 
any sleep that night. 

I returned to the field before daybreak on the morning of the 
twentieth. A light rain was falling, which continued until almost 

♦Prom We. Copyright 1927, Charles A. Lindbergh. New York, G. P. Put- 
nam's Sons. Used by permission of the publishers. 

467 



468 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

dawn ; consequently we did not move the ship to Roosevelt Field 
until much later than we had planned, and the take-off was de- 
layed from daybreak until nearly eight o'clock. At dawn the 
shower had passed, although the sky was overcast, and occasion- 
ally there would be some slight precipitation. About 7 :40 the 
motor was started, and at 7 :52 I took off on the flight for Paris. 

I turned slightly to the right to avoid some high trees on a hill 
directly ahead, but by the time I had gone a few hundred yards, 
I had sufficient altitude to clear all obstructions. I took up a 
compass course at once and soon reached Long Island Sound, 
where the Curtiss Oriole with its photographer, which had been 
escorting me, turned back. 

The haze soon cleared, and from Cape Cod through the south- 
ern half of Nova Scotia the weather and visibility were excellent. 
I was flying very low, sometimes as close as ten feet from the 
trees and water. 

On the three-hundred-mile stretch of water between Cape Cod 
and Nova Scotia I passed within view of numerous fishing vessels. 
The northern part of Nova Scotia contained a number of storm 
areas, and several times I flew through cloudbursts. 

I had taken up a course for St. John's, which is south of the 
great Circle from New York to Paris, so that there would be no 
question of the fact that I had passed Newfoundland in case I 
was forced down in the North Atlantic. I passed over numerous 
icebergs after leaving St. John's, but saw no ships except near 
the coast. 

Darkness set in about 8 :15, and a thin, low fog formed over 
the sea through which the white bergs showed up with surprising 
clearness. This fog became thicker and increased in height until 
within two hours I was just skimming the top of storm clouds at 
about ten thousand feet. Even at this altitude there was a thick 
haze, through which only the stars directly overhead could be 
seen. 

There was no moon, and it was very dark. The tops of some 
of the storm clouds were several thousand feet above me and at 



NEW YORK TO PARIS 469 

one time, when I attempted to fly through one of the larger clouds, 
sleet started to collect on the plane; and I was forced to turn 
around and get back into clear air immediately, and then fly 
around any clouds which I could not get over. 

The moon appeared on the horizon after about two hours of 
darkness; then the flying was much less complicated. 

Dawn came about 1 a.m., New York time, and the temperature 
had risen until there was practically no remaining danger of sleet. 

Shortly after sunrise the clouds became more broken, although 
some of them were far above me and it was often necessary to fly 
through them, navigating by instruments only. As the sun be- 
came higher, holes appeared in the fog. Through one the open 
water was visible, and I dropped down until less than a hundred 
feet above the waves. There was a strong wind blowing from the 
northwest, and the ocean was covered with white caps. 

After a few miles of fairly clear weather the ceiling lowered to 
zero, and for nearly two hours I flew entirely blind through the 
fog at an altitude of about 1500 feet. Then the fog lifted, and 
the water was visible again. 

On several more occasions it was necessary to fly by instrument 
for short periods; then the fog broke up into patches. These 
patches took on forms of every description. Numerous shore-lines 
appeared, with trees perfectly outlined against the horizon. In 
fact, the mirages were so natural that, had I not been in mid- 
Atlantic and known that no land existed along my route, I would 
have taken them to be actual islands. 

As the fog cleared, I dropped down closer to the water, some- 
times flying within ten feet of the waves and seldom higher than 
two hundred. 

There is a cushion of air close to the ground or water through 
which a plane flies with less effort than when at a higher altitude, 
and for hours at a time I took advantage of this factor. Also, it 
was less difficult to determine the wind drift near the water. 
During the entire flight the wind was strong enough to produce 
whitecaps on the waves. When one of these formed, the foam 



470 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 




would be blown off, showing the wind's direction and approxi- 
mate ' velocity . This foam remained on the water long enough 
for me to obtain a general idea of my drift. 

During the day I saw a number of porpoises and a few birds, 
but no ships, although I understand that two different boats 
reported me passing over. 

The first indication of my approach to the European coast 
was a small fishing boat which I first noticed a few miles ahead 
and slightly to the south of my course. There were several of 
these fishing boats grouped within a few miles of each other. I 
flew over the first boat without seeing any signs of life. As I 
circled over the second, however, a man's face appeared, looking 
out of the cabin window. 

I have carried on short conversations with people on the ground 
by flying low with throttled engine, shouting a question, and 
receiving the answer by some signal. When I saw this fisherman, 
I decided to try to get him to point toward land. Of course the 
attempt was useless, and I continued on my course. 



NEW YORK TO PARIS 471 

Less than an hour later a ragged and semi-mountainous coast- 
line appeared to the northeast. I was flying less than two hundred 
feet from the water when I sighted it. The shore was fairly dis- 
tinct and not over ten or fifteen miles away. A light haze coupled 
with numerous local storm areas had prevented my seeing it from 
a long distance. 

The coastline came down from the north, curved over toward 
the east. I had very little doubt that it was the southwestern end 
of Ireland, but in order to make sure I changed my course toward 
the nearest point of land. I located Cape Valentia and Dingle 
Bay, then resumed my compass course toward Paris. 

After leaving Ireland, I passed a number of steamers and was 
seldom out of sight of a ship. In a little over two hours the coast 
of England appeared. My course passed over southern England 
and a little south of Plymouth ; then across the English Channel, 
striking France over Cherbourg. The visibility was good, and 
the country could be seen for miles around. The sun went down 
shortly after I passed Cherbourg, and soon the beacons along the 
Paris-London airway became visible. 

I first saw the lights of Paris a little before ten p.m., or five p.m. 
New York time, and a few minutes later I was circling the Eiffel 
Tower at an altitude of about 4000 feet. The lights of Le Bourget 
were plainly visible, but appeared to be very close to Paris. 

I had understood that the field was farther from the city, and 
so continued out to the northeast into the country for four or 
-Qrve miles to make sure that there was not another field farther 
out which might be Le Bourget. Then I returned and spiralled 
down closer to the lights. Presently I could make out long lines 
of hangars, and the roads appeared to be jammed with cars. 

I flew low over the field once, then circled around into the wind 
and landed. After the plane stopped rolling, I turned it around 
and started to taxi back to the lights. The entire field ahead, 
however, was covered with thousands of people all running 
toward my ship. 

I cut the switch to keep the propeller from killing someone, 
and attempted to organize an impromptu guard for the plane. 



472 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

The impossibility of any immediate organization became appar- 
ent, and when parts of the ship began to crack from the pressure 
of the multitude, I decided to climb out of the cockpit in order 
to draw the crowd away. 

Speaking was impossible ; no words could be heard in the up- 
roar, and nobody apparently cared to hear any. I started to climb 
out of the cockpit, but as soon as one foot appeared through the 
door, I was dragged the rest of the way without assistance on my 
part. For nearly half an hour I was unable to touch the ground, 
during which time I was ardently carried around in what seemed 
to be a very small area, and in every position it is possible to 
be in. Everyone had the best of intentions, but no one seemed to 
know just what they were. 

The French military flyers very resourcefully took the situa- 
tion in hand. A number of them mingled with the crowd ; then, 
at a given signal, they placed my helmet on an American corre- 
spondent and cried: "Here is Lindbergh." That helmet on an 
American was sufficient evidence. The correspondent immedi- 
ately became the center of attraction, and while he was being 
taken protestingly to the Reception Committee via a rather devi- 
ous route, I managed to get inside one of the hangars. 

Meanwhile a second group of soldiers and police had sur- 
rounded the plane and soon placed it out of danger in another 
hangar. The French ability to handle an unusual situation with 
speed and capability was remarkably demonstrated that night at 
Le Bourget. 

Ambassador Herrick extended me an invitation to remain at 
his Embassy while I was in Paris, which I gladly accepted. But 
grateful as I was at the time, it did not take me long to realize 
that a kind Providence had placed me in Ambassador Herrick 's 
hands. The ensuing days found me in situations that I had cer- 
tainly never expected to be in and in which I relied on Ambas- 
sador Herrick 's sympathetic aid. 

These situations were brought about by the whole-hearted wel- 
come to me — an American — that touched me beyond any point 



NEW YORK TO PARIS 473 

that any words can express. I left France with a debt of grati- 
tude which, though I cannot repay it, I shall always remember. 
If the French people had been acclaiming their own gallant air- 
men, Nungesser and Coli, who were lost only after fearlessly 
departing in the face of conditions insurmountably greater than 
those that confronted me, their enthusiastic welcome and gra- 
ciousness could not have been greater. 

Notes and Questions 

Charles A. Lindbergh, "The Lone Scout of the Sky," spent his boy- 
hood years in Little Falls, Minnesota, where he was graduated from, high 
school. He entered the University of Wisconsin to study mechanical 
engineering, but his interest in aviation led him, two years later, to an 
Army aviation school, from which he was graduated in 1925 as an 
airplane pilot. Shortly after, he became connected with the United States 
Mail Service, and carried the mail between St. Louis and Chicago. 
Lindbergh's flight from New York to Paris, May 20-21, 1927, com- 
manded the acclaim and admiration of the whole world. 

1. Contrast Lindbergh's flight across the Atlantic with the voyage of 
Columbus in 1492, noting as many points of difference as you can men- 
tion. Which of these heroic adventurers do you think faced the greater 
dangers? Give reasons. 

2. Lindbergh flew alone; what, if anything, had this fact to do with 
the acclaim given his daring flight? 

3. Compton's Pictured Encyclopedia has some interesting informa- 
tion and pictures on the subject of aviation under the titles : "The Soar- 
ing Motor-Car of the Air" and "How the Airplane Works." 



A NARKOW ESCAPE* 
Richard E. Byrd 

We warmed up the engines gradually and took our places in 
the plane. Lieutenant George 0. Noville sat with his hand on 
the dump valve to release the gasoline in case we could not get 
off the ground or should a crash threaten at the end of the run- 
way. Bernt Balchen, our young Norwegian relief pilot and 
mechanic, was working aft among the spare fuel. 

We put the engines on full ; the plane strained at its leash like 
a live thing. Tom Mulroy, our chief engineer on the North Pole 
voyage, knife in hand, stood ready to cut the rope that held the 
plane. The tug of the great engines suddenly broke the line, as 
I learned later, and we started a little sooner than we had ex- 
pected. That was very bad. The engines were not warmed up as 
much as we had intended, and it looked for some moments as if 
we might not get into the air before reaching the end of the run- 
way. " Bert Acosta at the wheel raised his hand to Noville to 
dump. It was a tense, moment — everything hung in the balance. 
But just then the wheels left the ground, and we set forth on the 
toughest air battle, I believe, that has ever taken place. I remem- 
ber Balchen shouted with joy. 

Slowly the great ship gained altitude with its tremendous load. 
This was a critical time because, should any one of the three en- 
gines stop or even falter until we could get an altitude of 400 or 
500 feet, the dump valve would be of no value, and the plane 
would crash. 

I made notes in my log and remarks in my diary, the same 
diary carried over the North Pole with me. I find this entry 
made a few minutes after leaving Roosevelt Field: "Altitude 
300 feet, turning; after turn completed, altitude 400 feet." The 

♦From Skyward. Copyright 1928. Richard E. Byrd. New York. G. P. Put- 
nam's Sons. Used by permission of the publishers. 

474 



A NARROW ESCAPE 475 

America had climbed on a turn and was proving herself a very 
great plane. 

With the engines roaring at maximum revolutions we went 
through the air at one hundred miles an hour. Naturally, for 
the same wing surface, it is necessary to fly faster with a heavy 
load than it is with a lighter one in order to keep in the air. 

Slowly we climbed. Shortly afterwards I find the following 
note in my log: "Raining, fog, clouds low, standard compass 
8Sy 2 °, wind southwest on surface, drift 5° right, air speed one 
hundred miles an hour, altitude 3000 feet. ' ' 

We had to change the course of the plane five degrees to the 
left to allow for this drift. I had been taking our speed from the 
ground and found that at our altitude of 3000 feet we were get- 
ting probably the maximum assistance from the winds. 

The air navigator of the future, I believe, will select the short- 
est route through the air by flying at that altitude which yields 
the maximum assistance from the wind. We wanted to prove the 
truth of this theory. The wind changes, both in speed and direc- 
tion, at various altitudes. Greater speed and quicker time can 
be obtained by taking advantage of this fact, as we proved on 
our way to Newfoundland. 

The rain continued for several hours, and the weather was 
slightly foggy ; but these factors did not bother us to any extent. 

When we reached Nova Scotia, the weather became clear. The 
air was very bumpy and rough. But we expected that. We 
kept a sharp lookout for the plane of Nungesser and Coli, think- 
ing it might have crashed on the rough land below. These two 
Frenchmen had heroically tried to fly from Paris to New York 
shortly before, and had never been heard from again. There 
were practically no landing places that I could see. At one time 
I thought I saw their big white plane beneath, but it was a 
curiously shaped, whitish rock. 

The ground was covered with trees and rocks, and we passed 
over many small lakes. WTien we passed near Halifax, we were 
flying over beautiful white clouds ; but the sun was bright above 



476 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

us. The shadow of the plane was etched on the clouds, and around 
it was a rainbow. Here was an omen of good luck, following 
us on the white clouds beneath, at the rate of one hundred 
miles an hour. 

When we reached Newfoundland, we found everything cov- 
ered with fog. We had not expected such a tough break. Then 
for 2000 miles we saw nothing beneath us, and it looked as if 
we would reach Europe without seeing the ocean; and we 
almost did it. I hope no other pilots have that experience. It 
is not a very pleasant one. 

There would be no chance to take a departure from St. John's, 
and thus be entirely certain of our position before striking out 
over the ocean. We would have to fly "blind" for many miles 
over the land before hitting the water. 

At 2 p.m. all the gasoline cans had been emptied, and I asked 
Noville for a check on the gasoline consumption. This check 
showed that it had been greater than we had anticipated, and I 
gave instructions to "lean" the mixture and to cut down the 
revolutions as much as possible. We had been going with almost 
a full throttle on account of the heavy load. 

When we met fog, it was, we thought, advisable to fight our 
way above it ; and so in climbing with our heavy load, we again 
had to run the engines at full speed. Slowly we got altitude, and 
at 5 :50 p.m. we found ourselves about a mile high, but in fog 
most of the time, and the plane was drenched. It would grow 
colder as night drew on, and we would have to watch the tem- 
perature carefully, because, within fifteen minutes, a plane so 
drenched could be precipitated into the ocean should the water 
freeze on the propeller and wings. 

Finally we came to a point where we calculated that St. John '& 
was beneath us, but we could barely see the tips of the wings, so 
dense was the fog. Little did we think, as we went into the fog, 
how many hours would pass before we could see the land or the 
sea. After we had left the land some hours behind, I again asked 
Noville for his gasoline consumption. I told him to be conserva- 



A NARROW ESCAPE 477 

tive. His figures indicated that it was much greater than we had 
expected. One reason for this, I thought, was our struggle in 
attempting to get above the clouds and fog. This had caused 
us to run the motors much faster than we had intended. 

I made some careful calculations and showed Noville — in writ- 
ing, of course, because the roar of the three engines prevented 
conversation — that, at that rate, with the slightest winds against 
us, we would drop into the sea from lack of fuel before reaching 
Europe. 

I told him that I was responsible for the lives of all on board 
and that, regardless of my feelings, I wanted to know how they 
felt about turning back. He promptly answered that he knew of 
no landing place between Newfoundland and the States, except 
St. John 's, that was now covered with fog, and that, therefore, it 
was just as safe to go ahead as to go back. I was glad he felt 
that way, because I did not wish to retreat. We didn't mention 
our predicament to Acosta and Balchen — they had enough 
troubles of their own. 

Here it was that we staked our lives on our theory that if 
we flew at the proper altitude, we should have favoring winds. 
If I were wrong, then we should fall into the sea and be lost 
before making a landfall on the other side. 

I had studied thoroughly the velocity and directions of winds 
over the Atlantic. So far as I could learn, no reliable data had 
been procured upon the winds' strength at high altitudes, but 
several meteorologists of the Weather Bureau, as well as I, be- 
lieved that a plane could fly high enough to get strong winds 
from the west, even though there might at the same time be 
easterly winds on the surface. 

So whenever any of us took the wheel, we flew as high as 
possible. If we could have the winds with us, we should easily 
make Europe ; if not, we should fall far short of it, if Noville 's 
estimate of the gasoline on hand was correct. I also knew, from 
Dr. Kimball's weather map, which I had spread before me on the 
chart board, that I now was flying at first on the southern side 



478 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

of the storm area and later would be flying on the northern side 
of a high-pressure area. 

We were now flying nearly two miles high. Above the ocean at 
night, bitterly cold, lost in storm clouds, so dark that we couldn 't 
see our hands before our faces ! It was not the pleasantest situa- 
tion in the world. 

I find notations made hour after hour in my log, as follows : 
"It is impossible to navigate." 

Our safety depended upon winds behind us. It was a strain, I 
must admit. Only an aviator knows what it means to fly 2000 
miles without seeing the ground or water beneath. I doubt 
whether any other plane had ever flown blindly for half that 
time. 

One notation in the log stated : ' ' Ice is forming on the plane. ' ' 
We were at a dangerous temperature. That was to be expected, 
flying two miles high in fog, because the temperature decreases 
considerably with altitude. I passed a note to Acosta warning 
him to make every effort to get out of the clouds, which he very 
soon did. 

Acosta and Balchen deserve great credit for their fine work 
during this critical period. 

Several times I took my turn at the wheel and realized what a 
strain Acosta and Balchen must have been under, steering for 
hours entirely by instrument. 

Our night lights worked well. We also had powerful flash 
lights. W T e did not use the latter very much, because every 
time we flashed them we were blinded. 

I had left behind my rather heavy thermos bottle of tea, but 
during the night Noville gave me some of his coffee. It was only 
lukewarm, but it tasted good. We had plenty of drinking water. 
I ate a little roast chicken, but did not want to eat too much, be- 
cause I knew it would be necessary to keep awake. 

On one occasion in a thick cloud the plane got temporarily out 
of control. We must have been going downward at a terrific 
rate, judging from the roaring of the engines. Balchen, with 
great skill, finally steadied the ship again on her course. 



A NARROW ESCAPE 



479 




I note in our record that I sent the following radio at 6 :50 p.m. 
on June 30 : * ' We have seen neither land nor sea since three 
o'clock yesterday. Everything completely covered with fog. 
Whatever happens, I take my hat off to these great fellows. ' ' 

In those minutes between twilight and dusk we reached suf- 
ficient altitude to skim the tops of the clouds, and the spectacle 
was extraordinary. On the side of the sun, which, of course, 
was far below the cloud horizon, the clouds took on weird shapes 
and colors ; but on the other side they were ominous and gloomy. 
During the day we had some terrifying views; there were fog 
valleys, dark and sinister, hundreds of feet beneath us. At times 
distant cloud peaks took on shapes and colors of rugged Arctic 
land and mountains. 

I had another bad time when I discovered a leak near the 
bottom of one of the main gasoline tanks. We had provided 
against such an emergency by bringing along some of a patent 
putty-like substance. This nearly stopped the leak, but a little 
of the precious fuel kept dribbling out. Along toward morning 



480 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

the leak stopped of its own accord. This I told myself could mean 
but one thing : that the fuel had got down to the leak. This meant 
further that we had only fuel in the four wing tanks. It 
checked up with what Noville had told me about over-consump- 
tion of gas, and confirmed the disagreeable fact that we should 
never reach the other side. I could have been saved much anxiety 
had I only known that the leak was somehow stopped from inside 
the tank after all, and that the tank was far from empty at the 
time. 

From a study of the weather maps I concluded we were being 
drifted to the south. 

From time to time we sent and received radio messages, and it 
seemed miraculous that, flying two miles above the ocean, hidden 
in dense clouds, we could get messages from safe, comfortable 
places. 

At one time Noville reported he had a message from a steamer 
somewhere beneath us, and our signals were so clear that we 
must have been very near it. We were in dense fog at the time. 
He asked for conditions of weather at the surface, and the ship 
reported fog. We got its position and a radio bearing. This 
showed we were on a certain line and indicated we had been 
right in judging that the wind had drifted us to the south. 

A little later we had the position of another ship, the S. S. 
Paris, and this information put us somewhere on another line. 
Where the two lines intersected was our exact position. We were 
certain then that we had been drifted to the south ; so instead of 
bucking winds to go to Ireland, we set our course directly for 
Finisterre, France. Indeed, by allowing ourselves to go with 
the wind we had made better speed toward our objective. I could 
now, however, allow for the wind to a nicety and knew exactly 
where we would hit land, although we were still several hundred 
miles away. 

We must give Noville credit for this radio information. It 
was a remarkable feat and another triumph of science at which 
to marvel. Surely our whole flight was worth while, to demon- 
strate this one thing alone which we had been anxious to prove. 



A NARROW ESCAPE 481 

Our position indicated that we had been assisted by the wind 
about thirty miles an hour all the way from Newfoundland. We 
had made splendid speed. 

I wanted to find out the worst about the gasoline, and so asked 
Noville for an exact estimate. He came to me in a few minutes 
and wrote : ' ' I made a mistake in the first estimate. We have 
enough gasoline to fly to Rome." 

"Wish I had known that eighteen hours ago," I wrote back. 

The error was caused, I think, by the fact that the tail of the 
plane was somewhat down on account of the weight, and the gaso^ 
line gauge did not register accurately. 

Not long after that in the afternoon of the second day, we 
came out of the thick, solid cloud layers into broken cloud fields, 
and we could see the water beneath us. Though it was fairly 
rough, it was a most welcome sight. We could see it only every 
now and then, but that was enough to allow me to get my drift 
and to verify the fact that the wind was blowing from the north- 
west. 

What a great contrast was our situation now compared to what 
it appeared to be a few hours earlier ! We could get glimpses of 
the sun and water; by our navigation we now knew exactly 
where we were ; there was enough gasoline to get to Rome, and 
all engines were hitting perfectly. When I squeezed up into the 
pilot 's compartment to take a turn at the wheel, I could tell from 
the faces of my shipmates that they were much relieved. 

Soon we were getting many radio signals. They began to in- 
crease rapidly in number, and Noville reported to me that he 
thought the whole of Europe was calling us. 

We hit land about the time and at the place we calculated, and 
I am sure France never looked so beautiful to any one of us 
before. We passed over Brest and set our course for Paris. 

We had flown nearly a whole day without seeing land. Since 
one's processes seem to quicken when flying, the period seemed 
more like two days. 

We had fairly good weather, now, but it looked thick ahead. I 
asked Noville to radio to Paris to find out the condition of the 



482 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

weather there. It was reported thick fog and squally. Another 
battle was before us. The worst that we had anticipated — fog at 
our destination — had happened. 

In a way we welcomed the fight ahead. Here would be another 
test of aviation, and I felt we could conquer the elements with 
the gasoline we had left. We probably could have flown to Rome 
on the edge of the storm area and set the world on fire with this 
long distance record, but that would not have been ' ' carrying the 
message to Garcia. ' ' 1 

We were able to locate accurately our position by the cities 
beneath us and the coastline to the left. But before long, darkness 
began to descend, and with it came thick, rainy, and ominous 
weather. Soon we got only occasional glimpses of the lights of the 
towns, and the thick, low-lying fogs or clouds drenched the 
plane, and again we were tossed about in the blackness without 
being able to see our hands before our faces. 

It was so inky dark that every time we put on the flashlight to 
give an order, it blinded us temporarily, so that we could only 
dimly see the luminous instrument board. However, the person- 
nel and the many mechanisms of the plane continued to function 
efficiently, and I had every confidence of hitting Paris. If we 
hit Finisterre after almost 2000 miles of blind flying, I thought 
we certainly ought to be able to reach Paris, a few hundred 
miles off. 

We were using the earth-induction compass, and it had been 
excellent to steer by, better than the ordinary magnetic compass. 
The pilot had before him the pointer of the earth-induction com- 
pass, which was supposed to synchronize with a pointer in the 
navigator's compartment. A number of times I found my 
pointer considerably off, and at first I blamed it on the pilot, but 
found that one of the pointers apparently was sticky. We would 
tap the dial, and by checking with the standard compass, we al- 
ways managed to get on the course again. 

iSee pages 519-522. 



A NARROW ESCAPE 483 

I always take two or three compasses on an important trip to 
check for accuracy. In spite of a few minor mechanical diffi- 
culties, the earth-induction compass undoubtedly is the aviation 
compass of the future. 

About the time we expected to hit Paris, we got temporarily 
out of the thick weather. I saw bright lights ahead and a re- 
volving light which I took to be Le Bourget. Our dead reckoning 
showed us to be just about at Paris. 

Our troubles seemed at an end. It was a relief. I wrote out 
the following radio for Mr. Wanamaker : ' ' Paris is in sight. It 
has been a great trip. I wish to tell you with enthusiasm that 
Noville, Acosta, and Balchen have faced grave dangers with 
the greatest possible courage and calmness. They have been 
wonderful, and we all send our best wishes to you. ' ' 

That radio was never to be sent. I looked down and saw the 
revolving light flash for an instant on water. It was a light- 
house. I knew there was no ocean lighthouse near Paris. We 
were somewhere on the coast of France ! I was astonished very 
greatly indeed. 

The compass had gone wrong — had taken us in a great circle. 
By the flares of our flashlights, I conferred on paper with the 
pilots and concluded that we had made a circle to the left. There 
had either been some local affection of the compass in the plane, 
or the pilot 's dial had stuck badly. The only way to get on again 
would be to lay some course and check up the compasses. 

We tapped the dials, checked them with the extra standard 
compass we carried, and got them O.K. Again we set out for 
Paris, and again were tossed about in the storm and darkness. 
It was raining very hard on the coast, and visibility was bad. 
It was much stormier inland. We afterwards found that the cen- 
ter of the storm was over Paris. I watched the course carefully 
after that and checked compasses every few minutes. I knew 
we were heading toward Paris. The inky darkness was broken 
occasionally by the flashes of our lights as we needed them tern- 



484 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

porarily, and the fire from the engine exhaust pipes. The 
rough air made it a little difficult to steer, especially in the dark- 
ness, but we kept a pretty good general course. 

Then arose the necessity of watching the gasoline very care- 
fully, for a forced landing in the darkness would not only have 
meant certain disaster for us, but also for some of those per- 
chance beneath us. 

Finally, our dead reckoning showed us to be at Paris, but 
we could see nothing — nothing beneath us — nothing but the 
luminous lights of our steering instruments. We had got to the 
point beyond which, if we had continued, we could not have re- 
turned to the coastal waters, on account of the diminished gaso- 
line. We knew that we would need a few gallons of reserve in 
order to cruise around for a landing place that we might not even 
then find. I believe at the moment we turned we were near 
Paris; our motors were heard by many people at Le Bourget 
through a sound intensifier, but I could not flirt any more with 
the lives of my shipmates. 

The French trans-Atlantic flyer Lebrix twice said during 
speeches at his reception in New York, on February 15 and 16, 
1928, that he and all the French aviators waiting for us at Le 
Bourget agreed that not only should we not have been able to 
land on account of the very thick weather, but that we should 
have surely killed people had we attempted it. 

In a flash it came to me that the compass needle taking us in a 
great circle right up to that lighthouse was an act of Providence. 
A decision had to be made. My big job now was to try not to kill 
anyone beneath us and to save my shipmates. The only thing to 
do was to turn back to water. It would probably be difficult for 
the laymen to visualize our predicament, tossed around in the 
inky darkness of the storm, drenched by rain. 

I doubt if anyone could realize the strain of this part of the 
flight. We had no assurance that the plane could be landed 
safely on the water, but there was no chance of a safe landing 
on the land where we could see nothing. 



A NARROW ESCAPE 485 

Thus the decision to turn back did not carry safety with it. It 
meant that even should we find water, we could not be certain 
of landing without disaster, because I never heard of anyone 
landing in the water when it was pitch dark and when the water 
could not be seen. We could not even be certain of landing a 
great plane like ours safely in the water in the daytime. 

So, when we turned, we faced uncertainty ahead; but there 
was nothing else we could do under the circumstances that would 
give us any chance whatever to save the lives of the crew and to 
avoid endangering the people beneath us. 

We set a course for the lighthouse we had seen. The wind 
might blow us off a bit in the darkness, but if the fog were not 
too thick there, we were confident of hitting it, provided we were 
where we thought we were while over Paris. Much of the way we 
could see nothing beneath us, and we were flying so low that 
Noville had to pull in the antenna of his wireless to prevent it 
from hitting objects on the ground. Finally, when I thought we 
were near the lighthouse, I asked Balchen to get down lower. He 
was afraid of running into something, but we had to take the 
risk. We emerged from the mists, and there was the lighthouse 
ahead of us. That shows, again, I think, that we had not been 
lost — that we had been at Paris. 

We cruised over it slowly, but in spite of the light the area 
around it was black, and we could only guess its topography. We 
could find no landing place. We had hoped there would be a 
beach and had written out a message on a weighted streamer ask- 
ing the people to clear the beach and make some kind of light 
for our landing. 

"We then flew over the lighthouse, and, by the quick flash of the 
revolving beacon, we could tell that we were over water and 
dimly distinguish the shore line. We could not discern the char- 
acter of the beach. It was still raining and dismally thick. 

I wrote a note to my shipmates, which I passed around with 
the flashlight which read: " Stand by to land." I knew there 
would be a hard bump. 



486 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

We decided to land near enough to the beach line to swim 
ashore, if necessary, and to salvage the plane, if it were not too 
badly wrecked. At the same time we had to be far enough away 
to miss any rocks, should the beach be rocky. That, of course, we 
could not tell. 

We had some navigation flares with us which ignite upon strik- 
ing the water and give a light for a few minutes. We carried 
these to sight on at night, when over the ocean, to get the drift 
caused by the wind and to use in case of a forced landing. I had 
thrown half of them overboard to rid us of the weight, but had 
saved enough for such an emergency as this. 

We now dropped a number of flares as nearly in a line as we 
could, about a hundred yards from the beach line. They all ig- 
nited, and although they made a light in a pool of blackness, we 
hoped we would be able to judge the distance of the plane above 
the water as we descended. Of course, if we could not judge it, 
we should go into the water at flying speed, which would smash 
everything badly, since water does not give much when hit hard. 

Those hours in the black storm had not been pleasant. I felt 
myself entirely responsible for the lives of my shipmates. I don't 
believe they thought there was much chance of getting down 
safely, but still they faced gallantly, with steady courage, what- 
ever fate lay ahead. In a few moments the story would be ended, 
but to the last they calmly obeyed orders. 

The gasoline was running low ; we must not wait for it to give 
out and be forced to land. Balchen happened to be at the wheel. 
I gave the orders to land. 

We were landing with the plane in control and the engines 
functioning perfectly. At that moment, in spite of our danger, 
I marveled at the three engines that for forty-two hours had 
made some 1500 revolutions a minute without missing a beat. I 
thought of the Wright Aeronautical Corporation, that made the 
engines, and of my friend, Charles Lawrance, who had designed 
them. 

Bennett and I had often wondered what would happen to a 



A NARROW ESCAPE 487 

great three-engine plane landing in the water. Everyone thought 
the plane would turn over. Some thought the flyers would get 
hurt. Others thought not. Anyhow we were about to find out. 
Only we had the added difficulty of landing at night. 

As we neared the water, we could not see it; only the flares 
ahead of us and beneath us. The wheels touched, and though 
the landing gear is secured to the plane with a tremendous 
factor of safety, it was sheared off, along with the wheels, with 
hardly a jar of the plane, as though a great knife had cut it, thus 
demonstrating the tremendous resistance of water when hit by 
a rapidly moving object. No one had predicted that. 

It seemed just a second after that the crash came. I suppose I 
was dazed a little. I know I got a stiff blow over the heart that 
made it beat irregularly for many months afterwards. I found 
myself in the water outside swimming around in pitchy dark 
and rain. I could hear Noville calling for me, but not another 
sound in the extraordinary stillness, which contrasted so vividly 
with the roar of the great motors which had been pounding on 
our eardrums for forty-two hours like tom-toms of Hades. 

The plane instantly filled with water. Noville was getting out 
of the window. I yelled at him that I was unharmed and asked 
him how he was, but he did not answer — just kept on yelling for 
me. I was a little worried about him, but I knew that he could 
not have been badly hurt. Hearing nothing from Balchen and 
Acosta and worried beyond measure about them, I swam to 
where they had been; the cockpit, of course, was under water. 
I yelled as loud as I could, but got no answer. 

I found Balchen slightly caught under water and trying to 
extricate himself. When he got clear, I asked him how he felt. 
He didn't answer, but asked me how I felt. He talked a blue 
streak, but didn't talk to me. I couldn't make it out exactly, but 
concluded that he, too, was somewhat dazed. 

Thinking that Acosta must have been caught under water in 
the cockpit, we dived down; but he was not there. I yelled for 
him, but there was no answer. A moment later he appeared, ap- 



488 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

parently from nowhere, swimming toward the wing, the leading 
edge of which was now down to the water. He must have been 
swimming around out there somewhere in the darkness all the 
time. 

I asked Acosta the same question I had asked the others, but 
he, too, didn't answer — asked me how I felt. Bert also talked a 
blue streak, but not to either one of us. In the course of his talk- 
ing I found he had broken his collar-bone. 

It was a weird sensation to have three shipmates there in the 
dark who would not talk to me or each other, but it was the most 
thankful moment of my life to find them still "kicking." The 
very worst thing we had anticipated had happened, and we had 
come through. 

With grunts and groans we dragged ourselves upon the wing. 
The wing was down in the water by that time. So it must have 
happened with all the land planes that landed in the ocean 
that summer. 

Noville, still functioning perfectly, was carrying out his orders 
given before leaving the States, which were to rip open the 
emergency cabin in case of landing in the water and pump up 
the rubber boat. He was at his job, although he could hardly 
stand up and was falling every minute or two. 

It had been with considerable difficulty that all hands got on 
top of the wing. I then found that the reason I could not get 
any answer from them was that the three engines roaring for 
forty-two hours over their heads had temporarily deafened them. 
As I had used ear protectors, my hearing was normal. No plane 
had ever flown that long for a distant objective, though en- 
durance tests, where the engine would not have to be run so fast, 
of course, had been longer. 

The great question was solved at last. We could land without 
seriously injuring the personnel. The plane did not turn over, 
as many thought it would, and we had placed the emergency com- 
partment in about the only situation in the ship where we could 



A NARROW ESCAPE 489 

get at our rubber boat and other emergency supplies when land- 
ing in the water. 

My next thought was one of great admiration for Balchen's 
landing. My mind turned to Norway, which had produced this 
kind of soul, cool and courageous in emergency. 

We were stiff and bruised, tired and watersoaked, and it was 
with some difficulty that we pumped up the rubber boat. As 
the wing was almost flush with the water, there was no difficulty 
in launching it. 

We placed our most precious cargo, which included a piece 
of the original American Flag, in a compartment we had made 
in the great wing ; this we thought was the safest place. After 
finding the things in there were only slightly wet, we shipped 
oars in the rubber boat, and wearily made for the shore in the 
dark. 

We were a mile from the village. Even after we reached it, we 
spent much time going from house to house trying to arouse 
someone. But there were fences with locked gates around these 
houses, and we were unsuccessful. Suddenly a boy on a bicycle 
passed us. We tried to stop him, but he took one look at us and 
kept on going. Wet and bedraggled, we certainly were not pre- 
possessing. 

Finally, we found the lighthouse keeper and his wife up in the 
lighthouse tower, but they wouldn't come down. Noville could 
talk French, but was deaf. My French wasn 't much and seemed 
to add to their idea that we were a gang of roughnecks under the 
weather. But when at last they realized that we had landed at 
Ver-sur-Mer, having come all the way from America, their as- 
tonishment and excitement were intense. 

Here began an experience with the people of France which 
was so remarkable that words fail me in describing it. 

Balchen and I left Acosta and Noville there while we went 
back to the America to get the United States mail and to salvage 
what we could of our precious records. In the meantime the tide 




490 



A NARROW ESCAPE 491 

had been going out rapidly, and when we reached the plane, it 
was nearly high and dry. Some of the villagers appeared and 
helped us carry our records and a few other belongings up to the 
village. So long as we live, we can never forget the kindness of 
the people of Ver-sur-Mer; and before leaving France, we 
motored back there to tell them "good-by." 

The wild scenes of joy and welcome which we received 
wherever we went in France are far beyond my power to de- 
scribe. When we arrived at Paris, it was a long time before we 
could get away from the station. The entire city seemed to have 
turned out to welcome us. The people were mad with joy at 
our escape, though yet mourning the loss of their own beloved 
airmen. 

The glass in one of our automobiles was broken, and the ma- 
chine in which I was riding was almost upset several times by the 
crowds that surged against it. Some of the people must have been 
crushed and injured, but they did not seem to mind. We could 
not start the automobile engines, but were simply shoved along 
by the crowd. My good friend, Herbert Adams Gibbons, finally 
rescued us and helped us through the balance of our exciting stay 
in France. 

It seemed to us that if everyone in France had been our blood- 
relatives, we could not have received a more joyous welcome. If 
the reader thinks I exaggerate, he has only to make a non-stop 
flight to France to find out the truth. 

From the greatest statesmen down to their humblest citizens, 
we received warm expressions of admiration and friendship ; 
but their words were not necessary to show us how they felt. The 
expressions on their faces were more eloquent than any words 
could have been. France gave us her very best. We were made 
citizens of three French cities. It would take a book to tell all 
they did for us. 

There can be no doubt about the deep friendship of France 
for the people of this country. I vowed at the time to bring this 
fact back home. Since my return I have spoken of it publicly in 



492 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

more than half a hundred leading cities in the United States. 
The response my word has received has convinced me that 
France's friendship is fully reciprocated. 

France saw in us, from the moment of our great welcome, the 
embodiment and the spirit of America, and it was that for which 
they poured out their friendship and affection. They were salut- 
ing the Stars and Stripes which we for the moment carried. 

Notes and Questions 

Rear Admiral Richard E. Byrd, naval officer and aviator, is noted for 
high adventure. At the age of twelve he made a trip around the world 
alone. After he was graduated from the Naval Academy, Byrd dis- 
tinguished himself by notable service with the United States battleship 
fleet. Thrice he thrilled the world : by his North Pole flight, by his flight 
from New York to France, and by his South Pole flight. Admiral 
Byrd tells of his various flights in Skyward, from which this selection 
is taken. 

1. Compare Byrd's transatlantic flight with that of Lindbergh's, 
noting likeness of storm conditions and fog. Why did Byrd fly the 
America at a high altitude for the most part? 

2. Why did the America not reach Paris'? Describe the landing of 
the airplane. How were the flyers received by the French people ? 

You will enjoy reading Little America, Byrd, which tells all about 
Rear Admiral Byrd's trip to the South Pole. 



THE THINKER* 

Berton Braley 

Back of the heating hammer 
By which the steel is wrought, 
Back of the workshop's clamor 
The seeker may find the Thought, 
The Thought that is ever master 
Of iron and steam and steel, 
That rises above disaster 
And tramples it under heel ! 

The drudge may fret and tinker 
Or labor with dusty blows, 
But back of him stands the Thinker, 
The clear-eyed man who Knows; 
For into each plow or saber, 
Each piece and part and whole, 
Must go the Brains and Labor, 
Which give the work a soul ! 

Back of the motors humming, 
Back of the belts that sing, 
Back of the hammers drumming, 
Back of the cranes that swing, 
There is the eye which scans them, 
Watching through stress and strain, 
There is the Mind which plans them — 
Back of the brawn, the Brain! 

♦From Songs of the Workaday World, by Berton Braley. Copyright, 1915 
George H. Doran Company, Publishers. 

493 



494 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Might of the roaring boiler, 

Force of the engine 's thrust, 

Strength of the sweating toiler, 

Greatly in these we trust. 

But back of them stands the Schemer, 

The Thinker who drives things through ; 

Back of the job — the Dreamer 

Who 's making the dream come true ! 

Notes and Questions 

Berton Braley, poet and journalist; is a native of Wisconsin, and was 
graduated from the University of Wisconsin in 1905. He served on the 
staff of The Evening Mail, New York, and was for a time associate 
editor of the magazine Puck. During the World War Mr. Braley was a 
special correspondent in France and England. He is a frequent con- 
tributor to the leading magazines and newspapers. Among his pub- 
lished works are : Songs of the Workaday World; A Banjo of Armaged- 
don; In Camp and Trench. 

1. Who is the "clear-eyed man who knows"? What is "ever master" 
of any great enterprise? What is the relation of the planner to the 
worker i 

2. Do you think the poet has more confidence in the thinker or in the 
worker ? Find and read aloud lines to support your answer. What does 
the poet believe to be the contribution made by the Dreamer? 

3. Explain in your own words the poet's meaning in the following 
line: "Back of the brawn, the Brain!" 

4. "In Union there is strength" ; discuss this idea as expressed in "The 
Thinker." How does co-operation assist you in your work in the school- 
room? In the home? On the playground? 

5. Read aloud the poem to bring out the meaning and rhythm; bring 
to class and read other poems by Berton Braley, including "The Real 
Thrill" (in Elson Junior Literature, Book One). 



WOEK: A SONG OF TKIUMPH 

Angela Morgan 

Work! 

Thank God for the might of it, 

The ardor, the urge, the delight of it — 

Work that springs from the heart's desire, 

Setting the brain and the soul on fire — 

Oh, what is so good as the heat of it, 

And what is so glad as the beat of it, 

And what is so kind as the stern command, 

Challenging brain and heart and hand? 

Work! 

Thank God for the pride of it, 

For the beautiful, conquering tide of it, 

Sweeping the life in its furious flood, 

Thrilling the arteries, cleansing the blood, 

Mastering stupor and dull despair, 

Moving the dreamer to do and dare. 

Oh, what is so good as the urge of it, 

And what is so glad as the surge of it, 

And what is so strong as the summons deep, 

Rousing the torpid soul from sleep? 

Work! 

Thank God for the pace of it, 
For the terrible, keen, swift race of it ; 
Fiery steeds in full control, 
Nostrils aquiver to greet the goal. 
Speeding the energies faster, faster, 
Work, the Power that drives behind, 
495 



496 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Guiding the purposes, taming the mind, 
Holding the runaway wishes back, 
Reining the will to one steady track, 
Triumphing over disaster. 
Oh, what is so good as the pain of it, 
And what is so great as the gain of it? 
And what is so kind as the cruel goad, 
Forcing us on through the rugged road ? 

Work! 

Thank God for the swing of it, 

For the clamoring, hammering ring of it, 

Passion of labor daily hurled 

On the mighty anvils of the world. 

Oh, what is so fierce as the flame of it ? 

And what is so huge as the aim of it ? 

Thundering on through dearth and doubt, 

Calling the plan of the Maker out. 

Work, the Titan ; Work, the friend, 

Shaping the earth to a glorious end, 

Draining the swamps and blasting the hills, 

Doing whatever the Spirit wills — 

Rending a continent apart, 

To answer the dream of the Master heart. 

Thank God for a world where none may shirk — 

Thank God for the splendor of work ! 

Notes and Questions 

Angela Morgan was born in New England, spent most of her child- 
hood in the Middle West, and in her youth entered upon a career of 
journalism. Her warm sympathy for the industrial worker and her keen 
interest in social reforms make her a poet of the people. 

1. What thought did you get from the reading of this poem which will 
assist you in your work ? Have you ever done a piece of work in which 
you took great delight? Tell the class about it. 



WORK: A SONG OF TRIUMPH 497 

2. What can work do for you? (See stanza two.) Read the lines you 
like best. Why does the poet call work a Titan? A friend? How is it 
possible for work to assist you in 

"Guiding the purposes, taming the mind, 
Holding the runaway wishes back" ? 

3. Does the author think that everyone should work? Read the line 
that answers the question. 

4. Make a special report on one of these topics : 

(a) "We must either wear out or rust out, every one of us. My 
choice is to wear out." — Roosevelt 

(b) Everyone is expected to do his part of the world's work. A 
wide acquaintance with occupations, both at first hand and 
through reading, will help you to choose a vocation with 
intelligence; it will also give you greater sympathy for the 
worker and keener appreciation of the heroism of everyday 
toil. What are some of the occupations in your community 
that appeal to you as a vocation? 



PETE OF THE STEEL MILLS 
Herschel S. Hall 

It was a very black and a very dirty street down which I made 
my way that November morning at half -past five. There was no 
paving, there was no sidewalk, there were no lights. Rain had 
been falling for several days, and I waded through seas of mud 
and sloshed through lakes of water. There were men in front of 
me and men behind me, all plodding along through the muck 
and mire, just as I was plodding along, their tin lunch-pails 
rattling as mine was rattling. Some of us were going to work, 
some of us were going to look for work — the steel mills lay some- 
where in the darkness ahead of us. 

We who were not so fortunate as to possess a magical piece of 
brass, the showing of which to a uniformed guard at the steel 
mills' gate would cause the door to swing open, waited outside 
in the street, where we milled about in the mud, not unlike a 
herd of uneasy cattle. It was cold out there. A north wind, blow- 
ing straight from the lake, whipped our faces and hands and 
penetrated our none-too-heavy clothing. 

"I wisht I had a job in there!" said a shivering man at my 
side, who had been doing some inspecting through a knothole in 
the high fence. "You got a job there?" he asked, glancing at 
my pail. 

I told him I had been promised work and had been ordered 
to report. 

"You're lucky to get a job, and you want to freeze on to it. 
Jobs ain 't to be any too plentiful this winter, and if this war stops 
— good-night! I've been comin' here every mornin' for two 
weeks, but I can 't get took. I reckon I 'm kind o ' small for most 
of the work in there. ' ' He began to kick his muddy shoes against 
the fence and to blow upon his hands. "Winter's comin'," he 
sighed. 

498 



PETE OF THE STEEL MILLS 499 

A whistle blew, a gate swung open, and a mob of men poured 
out into the street — the night shift going off duty. Their faces 
looked haggard and deathly pale in the sickly glare of the pale 
blue arcs above us. 

' 'Night- work's no good," said the small man at my side. "But 
you got to do it if you 're goin ' to work in the mills. ' ' 

A man with a Turkish towel thrown loosely about his neck 
came out of the gate and looked critically at the job hunters. He 
came up to me. ' ' What 's yer name ? " he demanded. I told him. 
' ' Come on ! " he grunted. 

We stopped before the uniformed guard, who wrote my name 
on a card, punched the card, and gave it to me. "Come on!" 
again grunted the man with the towel. I followed my guide into 
the yard, over railroad tracks, past great piles of scrap-iron and 
pig metal, through clouds of steam and smoke, and into a long, 
black building where engines whistled, bells clanged, and electric 
cranes rumbled and rattled overhead. We skirted a mighty pit 
filled with molten slag, and the hot air and stifling fumes blowing 
from it struck me in the face and staggered me. We crept be- 
tween giant ladles in whose depths I could hear the banging of 
hammers and the shouting of men. We passed beneath a huge 
trough through which a white, seething river of steel was rushing. 
I shrank back in terror as the sound of the roaring flood fell 
upon my ears, but the man with the towel, who was walking 
briskly in front of me, looked over his shoulder and grunted, 
"Come on!" 

Through a long, hot tunnel and past black, curving flues, down 
which I saw red arms of flame reaching, we made our way. We 
came to an iron stairway, climbed it, and stepped out upon a 
steel floor into the open hearth. ' ' Come on ! " growled my guide, 
and we walked down the steel floor, scattered over which I saw 
groups of men at work in front of big, house-like furnaces out 
of whose cavernous mouths white tongues of flame were leaping. 
The men worked naked to the waist, or stripped to overalls and 
undershirt, and, watching them, I began to wonder if I had 



500 



ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 




chosen wisely in seeking and accepting employment in this in- 
ferno. 

"Put yer pail there. Hang yer coat there. Set down there. 
I'll tell the boss ye 're here." And the man with the towel went 
away. 

I was sitting opposite one of the furnaces, a square, squat 
structure of yellow brick built to hold seventy-five tons of steel. 
There were three doors on the front wall, each door having a 
round opening in the center, the t ' peep-hole. ' ' Out through these 
peep-holes poured shafts of light so white and dazzling that they 
pained the eye they struck. They were as the glaring orbs of 
some gigantic uncouth monster, and as I looked down the long 
line of furnaces and saw the three fiery eyes burning in each, 
the effect through the dark, smoke-laden atmosphere was gro- 
tesquely weird. 

I watched a man who worked at one of the doors of the furnace 
nearest me. He had thrust a bar of iron through the peep-hole 
and was jabbing and prying at some object inside. Every ounce 



PETE OF THE STEEL MILLS 501 

of his strength he was putting into his efforts. I could hear him 
grunt as he pulled and pushed, and I saw the perspiration drip- 
ping from his face and naked arms. He withdrew the bar — the 
end that had been inside the door came out as white and as pliable 
as a hank of taffy — and dropped it to the floor. He shouted some 
command to an invisible person, and the door rose slowly and 
quietly, disclosing to me a great, snow-white cavern in whose 
depths bubbled and boiled a seething lake of steel. 

With a quick movement of his hand the workman dropped a 
pair of dark-colored spectacles before his eyes, and his arms 
went up before his face to shield it from the withering blast that 
poured out through the open door. There he stood, silhouetted 
against that piercing light, stooping and peering, tiptoeing and 
bending, cringing and twisting, as he tried to examine something 
back in the furnace. Then with another shout he caused the door 
to slip down into its place. 

He came walking across the floor to where I sat and stopped 
in front of me. The sweat in great drops fell from his blistered 
face, ran in tiny rivulets from his arms and hands, and splashed 
on the iron floor. He trembled, he gasped for breath, and I 
thought he was going to sink down from pure exhaustion, when 
to my surprise, he deliberately winked at me. 

1 ' Ought never to have left the farm, ought we ? Eh, buddy ? ' ' 
he said with a sweaty chuckle. And that was my introduction 
to Pete, the best open-hearth man I ever knew, a good fellow, 
clean and honest. 

"Mike, put this guy to wheeling in manganese," said a voice 
behind me, and I turned and saw the boss. ' ' Eighteen hundred at 
Number Four and twenty-two hundred at Number Six. ' ' 

1 i Get that wheelbarrer over yender and f oiler me, ' ' instructed 
Mike, a little, old, white-haired Irishman who was, as I learned 
afterward, called "maid of all work" about the plant. I picked 
up the heavy iron wheelbarrow and trundled it after him, out 
through a runway to a detached building where the various alloys 
and refractories used in steel-making were kept. 

"Now, then, you load your wheelbarrer up with this here 



502 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

ma'ganese and weigh it over on them scales vender, and then 
wheel it in and put it behind Number Four, ' ' Mike told me. 

''Why is manganese put into steel?" I asked Pete on one of 
my trips past his furnace. 

"It settles it, toughens it up, and makes it so it'll roll," he 
answered. 

A few days later I asked one of the chemists about the plant 
the same question. ' ' It absorbs the occluded gases in the molten 
steel, hardens it, and imparts the properties of ductility and 
malleability, ' ' was his reply. I preferred Pete 's elucidation. 

All day I trundled the iron wheelbarrow back and forth along 
the iron floor, wheeling in manganese. I watched the powerful 
electric cranes at work picking up the heavy boxes of material 
and dumping their contents into the furnaces. I watched the 
tapping of the "heats," when the dams holding in the boiling 
lakes would be broken down and the fiery floods would go rush- 
ing and roaring into the ladles, these to be whisked away to 
the ingot molds. And I watched the men at work, saw the strain 
they were under, saw the risks they took, and wondered if, after 
a few' days, I could be doing what they were doing. 

" It is all very interesting, ' ' I said to Pete, as I stood near him. 

He grinned ' ' Uh-huh ! But you '11 get over it. 'Bout tomorrow 
mornin ', when your clock goes rattlety-bang and you look to see 
what 's up and find it 's five o 'clock, you '11 not be thinkin ' it so 
interestin ', oh, no ! Let 's see your hands. ' ' He laughed when he 
saw the blisters the handles of the wheelbarrow had developed. 

Pete was right. When my alarm clock awakened me next morn- 
ing, and I started to get out of bed, I groaned in agony. Every 
muscle of my body ached. I fancied my joints creaked as I sat 
on the edge of the couch vainly endeavoring to get them to work- 
ing freely and easily. The breakfast bell rang twice, but hurry 
I could not. 

"You'll be late to work! The others have gone!" called the 
landlady. I managed to creak downstairs. My pail was packed, 
and she had tied up an extra lunch in a newspaper. "You can't 



PETE OF THE STEEL MILLS 503 

stop to eat, if you want to get to work on time, ' ' she said. ' ' Your 
breakfast is in this paper — eat it when you get to the mills. ' ' 

I stumbled away in the darkness, groaning and gasping, and 
found my way to the black and dirty street. The mud was frozen 
hard now, and the pools of water were ice-covered, and my heavy 
working shoes thumped and bumped along the dismal road in 
a remarkably noisy manner. 

The number of job hunters was larger this morning. Among 
them I saw the small man who could not ' ' get took, ' ' and again 
he was peeking wishfully through the knothole in the fence. 

1 * You 're on, eh ? " he said when he spied me. ' ' I wisht I was. 
Say, you haven't got a dime you could spare a feller, have you?" 
I discovered a dime. 

I showed my brass check — a timekeeper had given me one the 
day before, Number 1266 — to the uniformed watchman. He 
waved me on, and I entered the gate just as the whistle blew. A 
minute later and I would have been docked a half -hour. 

Mike, ' ' maid of all work, ' ' took me in hand as soon as I came on 
the floor, and proceeded to give me a few pointers. "I kept me 
eye on ye all day yestiddy, and ye fair disgoosted me with the way 
ye cavorted round with the Irish buggy. As though ye wanted 
to do it all the first day ! Now, ye 're on a twelve-hour turn here, 
and ye ain't expected to work like a fool. Ye want to learn to 
spell. (Mike wasn 't referring to my orthographic short-comings. ) 
Ye '11 get in bad with the boss if he sees ye chinnin' with Pete. 
He don't like Pete, and Pete don't like him, and I don't blame 
Pete. The boss is solid bone from the collar-button up. He has 
brainstorms. Watch out for 'em. ' ' 

I followed much of Mike 's advice. All that day I trundled the 
wheelbarrow, but I made an easier day of it, and no one objected 
to my work. And as the days ran by, I found my muscles tough- 
ening, and I could hear the alarm-bell at five in the morning 
without feeling compelled to squander several valuable minutes 
in wishing I had been born rich. 

For two weeks I worked everv dav at wheeling in materials for 



504 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

the furnaces. Then for one week I worked with the "maid of all 
work, ' ' sweeping the floors and keeping the place ' ' righted up, ' ' 
as he called it. Then I ' ' pulled doors ' ' for a while ; I " ran tests" 
to the laboratory ; I "brought stores" ; I was general-utility man. 
Then one day, when a workman dropped a piece of pig-iron on 
his foot and was sent to the hospital, I was put on "second 
helping. ' ' 

By good luck I was sent to Pete 's furnace. Pete and I by this 
time were great cronies. Many a chat we had had, back behind 
his furnace, hidden from the prying eyes of the boss. I found 
Mike was right — it was just as well to keep out of his sight. I 
soon discovered that he did not like Pete. In numberless mean 
and petty ways did he harass the man, trying to make him do 
something that would give him an excuse to discharge him. But 
Pete was naturally slow to anger, and with admirable strength 
he kept his feelings under control. 

I was working nights now, every other week. The small man 
at the gate — he had finally "got took" and was laboring in the 
yard gang — who had told me that ' ' night-work is no good ' ' knew 
what he was talking about. I found night-work absolutely "no 
good." The small hours of the night are the terror of the night 
worker. 

To be aroused by a screaming whistle above your head at two 
o 'clock in the morning ; to seize a shovel and run to the open door 
of a white-hot furnace and there in its blistering heat to shovel 
in heavy ore and crushed limestone rock until every stitch of 
clothing on your body is soaked with perspiration; to stagger 
away with pulses thumping, and drop down upon a bench, only 
to be ordered out into a nipping winter air to raise or lower a 
gas-valve — this is the kind of work the poet did not have in mind 
when he wrote about ' ' toil that ennobles ! " I doubt whether he 
or any other poet ever heard of this two-o 'clock-in-the-morning 
toil. 

When the "heat" was ready to tap, I would dig out the "tap- 
hole." Another "second helper" would assist me in this work. 



PETE OF THE STEEL MILLS 505 

The tap-hole, an opening in the center and lower part of the 
back wall of the furnace, is about a foot in diameter and three 
in length. It is closed with magnesite and dolomite when the fur- 
nace is charged. Digging this filling out is dangerous work — the 
steel is likely to break out and burn the men who work there. 
When we had removed the dolomite from the hole, I would notify 
the boss. A long, heavy bar was thrust through the peep-hole in 
the middle door, and a dozen men would ' ' Ye-ho ! Ye-ho ! ' ' back 
and forth on the bar until it broke through the fused bank of 
magnesite into the tap-hole. Then the lake of steel would pour 
out through a runner into the ladle. 

This tapping a "heat" is a magnificent and startling sight to 
the newcomer. I stood fascinated when I beheld it the first time. 
A lake of seventy-five or eighty tons of sun-white steel, bursting 
out of furnace bounds and rushing through the runner, a raging 
river, is a terrifying spectacle. The eye aches as it watches it ; 
the body shrinks away from the burning heat it throws far out 
on all sides ; the imagination runs riot as the seething flood roils 
and boils in the ladle. 

Sometimes when we had had a particularly hard spell of work 
and were dead-beat with fatigue and exhaustion, then Pete might 
be expected to put his well-known question: "Ought to have 
stayed on the farm, oughtn 't we ? Hey, buddy ? ' ' 

The foolish question, and his comical way of asking it, always 
made me laugh. Seeing that Pete had once been a farm laborer, 
the remark does not appear so silly, after all. It was his way of 
comparing two kinds of work; it was his favorite stock jest. I 
know farm work, too, from pigs to potatoes, and I do not believe 
there is any kind of farm work known, ten hours of which would 
equal thirty minutes of "splashing" on an open-hearth furnace, 
in muscle-tearing, nerve-racking, back-breaking, sweat-bringing 
effort. 

Pete and I were working on Number Three furnace, the latest 
type and the "fastest" of any in the group. Its monthly output 
was three or four hundred tons more than that of any other. It 



506 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

belonged to Pete by rights — lie was the oldest man on the floor, 
and he was regarded by all the other furnace-men as the best 
" first helper" in the plant. No other " first helper" watched 
his roof so carefully as did he. No other could get as many heats 
1 ' from a roof ' ' as did he. For every three hundred and fifty heats 
tapped from a furnace before the furnace required a new roof, 
the company gave the " first helper" a bonus of fifty dollars. 
This was to encourage them to watch their furnaces closely, to 
see that the gas did not ' ' touch ' ' the roofs. 

One morning Pete and I were notified that we were transferred 
to Number Ten, the oldest, the slowest, and hardest furnace to 
work of any. "Bulger" Lewis, a Welshman, a bosom friend of 
the boss, was to take Number Three. Pete would lose the bonus 
money due in thirty days. 

"What's this for?" he demanded of the boss. 

"Because you don't watch your furnace!" snarled the boss in 
reply. ' ' You 've touched that roof ! There are icicles on it right 
now ! ' ' 

Pete walked over to the air-valves, jerked the lever, and threw 
up the middle door. "Show me an icicle in there!" he cried. 
" I Tl give you five hundred dollars for every one you point out ! ' ' 

1 ' Lower that door ! ' ' roared the boss. ' ' And get down to Num- 
ber Ten! Or go get your time, if you prefer!" 

Pete was silent for a moment. Then he threw up his head and 
laughed. Groing to his locker, he took out his lunch-pail and 
started for Number Ten. "I rather think I am goin' to take a 
trip back to Minnesota pretty soon — to see the folks, you know, ' ' 
he said to me that afternoon. 

Number Ten melted "soft" that day, and Pete could not get 
the heat hot. We pigged steadily for two hours, but it remained 
cold and dead. We were played out when, about four o'clock, 
the boss came up. 

"Why don't you get that heat out?" he demanded. "You've 
been ten hours on it already ! ' ' Pete made no reply. ' ' Where 's 
a test-bar?" He shoved the test-bar into the bath, moved it 



PETE OF THE STEEL MILLS 507 

slowly back and forth, and withdrew it. ''She's hot now! Take 
her out!" 

Pete looked at the end of the bar. It was ragged, not bitten 
off clean as it would have been had the temperature of the bath 
been right. "She's a long way from bein' hot," he said, pointing 
at the test-bar. 

"Don't you dispute me!" roared the boss. "If I say she's hot, 
she's hot ! If I tell you to take her out, you take her out !" 

We took out the heat. And a miserable mess there was. It was 
so cold it froze up in the tap-hole, it froze up in the runner, it 
froze up in the ladle. The entire heat was lost. It was an angry 
crew of men that worked with sledges, bars, and picks cleaning 
up the mess. I was sorry the boss could not know how much that 
bunch of men loved him. 

I saw him approaching Pete ; I saw him shaking his clenched 
fist ; I heard an ugly word ; the lie was passed, a blow was struck, 
and the long-expected fight was on. 

Out on the smooth iron floor, in the glare of the furnace flames 
— someone had hoisted the three doors to the top — the two 
enemies fought it out. They were giants in build, both of them, 
muscled and thewed like gladiators. It was a brutal, savage exhi- 
bition. Finally, the boss reeled, dropped to his knees, swayed 
back and forth, and went down. 

Pete, having floored the boss, took a bath, changed his clothes, 
shook hands all round, and came seeking me. ' ' Well, buddy, I 'm 
off, ' ' he chuckled, peeping at me from a chink in his swollen face. 
"Like as not I'll be shuckin' punkins up in Minnesota this time 
next week. Oh, no use my tryin' to stick it out here — you can't 
stay here, you know, when you've had a go with the boss. So 
long!" 

I did not go to work the next day, nor the next. I was deliberat- 
ing whether I would go back at all, the morning of the third day, 
when the "maid of all work" came looking for me. "Pete wants 
you to come to work," he announced. 

' ' Pete ? " I said, wondering what he meant. 



508 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

" You said it! Pete's boss now!" 

"No!" 

"Yes ! Oh, the super, lie ain't blind, he ain't ! He knowed what 
was goin ' on, he did, and it didn 't take him long to fix him when 
he'd heerd the peticlars. I'll tell Pete you'll be comin' along 
soon. ' ' And Mike departed. 

I went back and resumed my old position on Number Three, 
with John Yakabowski, a Pole. Yakabowski was an exceptionally 
able furnace-man and an agreeable fellow-workman. There was 
great rejoicing all over the plant because our old boss was out, 
and there was general satisfaction over Pete's appointment to 
his place. This feeling among the men was soon reflected in the 
output of the furnaces — our tonnage showed a steady increase. 

Pete was nervous and ill at ease for a few weeks. To assume 
the responsibilities that go with the foremanship of an open- 
hearth plant the size of that one was almost too much for him. 
He was afraid he would make some mistake that would show him 
to be unworthy of the trust the superintendent had placed in him. 

"No education — that's where I'm weak!" he said to me in 
one of our confidential chats. "Can't write, can't figger, can't 
talk — don 't know nothin ' ! It 's embarrassin ' ! The super tells 
me to use two thousand of manganese on a hundred-and-fifty- 
thousand-pound charge. That's easy — I just tell a hunky to 
wheel in two thousand. But s'pose that lunk-head out in them 
scales goes wrong, and charges in a hundred and sixty-five thou- 
sand pounds and doesn't tell me until ten minutes before we're 
ready to tap — how am I goin' to figger out how much more 
manganese to put in? Or when the chief clerk writes me a nice 
letter, requestin ' a statement showin ' how many of my men have 
more than ten children, how many of 'em can read the Declara- 
tion of Independence, and how many of 'em eat oatmeal for 
breakfast, why, I 'm up against it, I tell you ! No education ! I 
reckon I ought never to 've left the farm. Hey, buddy ? ' ' 

I understood Pete 's gentle hint, and I took care of his clerical 
work, writing what few letters he had to send out, making up his 
statements, doing his calculating, and so forth. 



PETE OF THE STEEL MILLS 509 

Six months passed. Pete had ' ' made good. ' ' The management 
was highly pleased with him as a melter. Success had come to 
me, too, in a modest way — I had been given a furnace — I was now 
a ' ' first helper. ' ' It was about the time I took the furnace that I 
began to notice a falling off in the number of requests from Pete 
for assistance. I thought little of it, supposing that he was 
getting his work done by one of the weighers. But one night 
when there was a lull in operations and I went down to his office 
to have a chat with him, I found him seated at his little desk 
poring over an arithmetic. Scattered about in front of him were 
some sheets of paper covered with figures. He looked up at 
me and grinned in a rather shamefaced manner. 

"Oh, that's it, is it?" I said. "Now I understand why I am 
no longer of any use to the boss ! ' ' 

"Well, I just had to do something'' he said. "Couldn't afford 
to go right on bein ' an ignoramus all the time. ' ' 

1 ' Are you studying it out alone ? ' ' 

"You bet I ain't! I'd never get there if I was! I've got a 
teacher, a private teacher. Swell, eh ? He comes every other 
night, when I'm workin' days, and every other afternoon, when 
I 'm workin ' nights. Gee, but I 'm a bonehead ! He 's told me so a 
dozen times, but the other day he said he thought I was sof tenin ' 
up a bit." 

Good old Pete ! I left him that night with my admiration for 
the man increased a hundred times. 

Another six months passed, six months of hard, grinding, wear- 
ing toil, and yet a six months I look back upon with genuine 
pleasure. I now had the swing of the work, and it came easy; 
conditions about the plant under Pete 's supervision were ideal ; 
I was making progress in the work I had adopted ; we were mak- 
ing good money. Then came the black day. 

How quickly it happened ! I had tapped my furnace, and the 
last of the heat had run into the ladle. ' ' Hoist away ! " I heard 
Pete shout to the crane-man. The humming sound of the crane 
motors getting into action came to my ears. I took a look at my 
roof, threw in a shovelful of spar, turned on the gas, and walked 



510 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

toward the rear of the furnace. The giant crane was groaning 
and whining as it slowly lifted its eighty -ton burden from the 
pit where the ladle stood. It was then five or six feet above the 
pit's bottom. Pete was leaning over the railing of the platform 
directly in front of the rising ladle. 

Suddenly something snapped up there among the shafts and 
cables. I saw two men in the crane cab go swarming up the 
escape ladder. I saw the ladle drop as a broken cable went flying 
out of a sheave. A great white wave of steel washed over the 
ladle's rim, and another, and another. 

Down upon a shallow pool of water that a leaking hose had 
formed, the steel was splashed, and as it struck, the explosion 
came. I was blown from my feet and rolled along the floor. The 
air was filled with bits of fiery steel, slag, brick, and debris of all 
kinds. I crawled to shelter behind a column and there beat out 
the flames that were burning my clothing in a half-dozen places. 
Then, groping through the pall of dust and smoke that choked 
the building, I went to look for Pete. 

Near the place where I had seen him standing when the ladle 
fell, I found him. Two workmen who had been crouching behind 
a wall when the explosion came, and were unhurt, were tearing 
his burning clothes from his seared and blackened body. Some- 
body brought a blanket, and we wrapped it about him. We 
doubted if he lived, but as we carried him back, I noted he was 
trying to speak, and, stooping, I caught the words: " Ought 
never to have left the farm, ought we f Hey, buddy ? ' ' That was 
the last time I ever heard Pete speak. That was the last time I 
ever saw him alive. 

Two o 'clock in the morning. Sitting at the little desk where I 
found Pete that night poring over his arithmetic, I have been 
writing down my early experiences in the open hearth. Here 
comes Yakabowski with a test. I know exactly what he will say : 
' ' Had I better give her a dose of ore ? ' ' Two o 'clock in the morn- 
ing ! The small man at the gate was right : Night-work is no good ! 



PETE OF THE STEEL MILLS 511 

I was mistaken; Yakabowski doesn't ask his customary ques- 
tion. He looks at me curiously. ' ' You don 't look good, boss, ' ' he 
says. ' ' You sick, maybe ? ' ' 

Yes, I'm sick — I always am at two o'clock in the morning, 
when I'm on the night shift. I stretch, I yawn, I shudder. 
1 1 Ought never to have left the farm, ought we ? Hey, Yakabow- 
ski?" I say to the big Pole. 

Notes and Questions 

Herschel S. Hall (1874-1921), a writer of short stories and novels, 
was born in Indiana, but spent most of his life in Ohio. His first-hand 
knowledge of work in the steel mills made his descriptions of great value. 
Mr. Hall, the author of Steel Preferred, was a frequent contributor to 
many magazines. 

1. Notice how the author makes this story seem real : 

(a) By vivid word pictures. 

(b) By conversation of the men. 

(c) By making clear the difficulty and danger of the work, 
amidst heat and noise, through describing the effects they 
produce. 

Find examples of each of these devices. 

2. What do you admire most in Pete's conduct 1 ? What facts do you 
learn from this story about the work in the steel mill ? Does the language 
of the workers seem suited to the speakers ? What did Mike mean when 
he advised the author "to learn to spell" ? 

3. Find the lines on page 504 in which the author speaks humorously 
about the poet's idea of work. Do you believe Herschel Hall would 
seriously doubt the truth of the glory of work as expressed by Angela 
Morgan? How is the heroism of toil shown in this story? 

4. What great facts of life do you learn from reading this selection? 
What great contribution does "Pete of the Steel Mills" make to you? 
(See "The Magic of Iron," Paine, in Child-Library Readers, Book Five.) 

5. Complete the following outline of the story : 

I. Outside the steel mills 

A. Men going to work 



512 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

II. The open hearth with its long line of furnaces 

A. The new job 
B. 

C. 

III. The workers 

A. 

B. Pete and his favorite jest 
C. 

IV. Night-work 

A. Tapping a "heat" 
B. 

V. Pete as foreman 

A. Gaining an education 
B. 

6. You will find "The Miracles of Iron and Steel" in Compton's Pic- 
tured Encyclopedia el very interesting informational article. This article 
has extremely instructive illustrations. 

7. Find out by a personal visit all you can about the way some industry 
or business is carried on (for example, some local store, or your father's 
business) and report to the class. Illustrate your talk, if possible, by 
pictures or blackboard drawings. 



THE NEW HAEVEST HAND 
Henry J. Allen 

No mechanical advancement has ever wrought a revolution so 
nearly complete in any agricultural region as has the ' ' combine ' ' 
in the western wheat fields, where the acreage is large enough to 
justify the investment. This new wonder of farm machinery not 
only cuts and gathers the wheat as it moves across a field, but 
threshes it as well. 

The suddenness with which it has accomplished its marvel of 
change is incredible. Only a few years ago we were still dealing 
with the harvest labor problem, pleading with railroads to grant 
extra employment bureaus to distribute help to the territory 
where the rapidly ripening grain was causing uneasiness among 
the farmers, who realized their utter helplessness to cope with the 
harvest through the local supply of labor. 

HARVEST DAYS THAT ARE OVER 

The wheat farmer had been dependent wholly upon the harvest 
hands, who came out of the four points of the compass to follow 
the harvest, as the grain ripened from the southern border of 
Oklahoma to the northern borders of the Dakotas and Minne- 
sota. They came in swarms. Drowsy little villages in the midst 
of yellowing wheat fields woke to the need of providing tem- 
porary shelter for the harvest hands who landed from box- 
cars and automobiles, or who came walking. They must be taken 
care of while they waited for the farmers to come in and barter 
for their services. This year there has been a total absence of 
them in the greater wheat areas which once knew them the most 
numerously. 

513 



514 



ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 




A BLESSING FOR THE FARMER S WIFE 

The housewives of the wheat farmers, who formerly looked for- 
ward with dread to harvest as a period of drudgery, which pre- 
ceded even a more severe period of it during the threshing days, 
have seen the combine lifting their load and causing the drudgery 
to disappear as completely as though it had never existed. 

Recently, traveling along a country highway, I met two farm 
women in a Ford motor car, looking clean and cool and happ3^. 
They were on their way to take the midday meal in hot containers 
to the harvest hands who were cutting a section of wheat. In the 
olden days, it would have taken two crews of about eight men 
each employed in that section for two weeks. For those sixteen 
extra men, cooking would be required. Then when it came time 
to thresh the grain, there would have been a group of from six 
to ten men, depending upon whether the grain was stacked or 
threshed from the shocks. There would have been horse-drawn 



THE NEW HARVEST HAND 515 

wagons to haul the grain to the bins or to the elevators, and the 
harvest period beginning in June would have extended into the 
threshing period until late in the fall. It meant extra work to 
house the hands, extra cooking, extra washing. 

I had known these two women in the days when their section 
of wheat meant all this in the sum total of human service. The 
other day they were taking food in their motor car to three men 
only. One of these men was driving the tractor which pulls the 
combine harvester and thresher. The second man was watching 
the combine. The third man was operating a hauling truck which 
took the wheat from the combine to the elevator. Thus, the 
farmer with one extra man to help him would cut forty-five acres 
a day and thresh it in the same operation. The other extra man 
would haul it to the elevator. Harvesting and threshing would 
all be over in the next fifteen or twenty days, and while it was 
going on, the women of the household would need to provide for 
only two extra men. 

LESS WHEAT LOST BY NEW METHOD 

An interesting incident occurred in Kansas recently, when a 
member of the Interstate Commerce Commission made a tour of 
the wheat fields of northeastern Sedgwick County while investi- 
gating railroad freight rates on grain. A farmer who lives near 
Furley, in Sedgwick County, explained to the commissioner that 
his experience was that the combine had reduced the cost of 
harvesting over fifty percent. His machinery cost him $2000. 
After harvesting his own wheat, he engaged in custom cutting for 
his neighbors at $3.00 an acre. He not only made a profit for 
himself at this rate, but he saved his neighbors from $3.00 to 
$4.00 an acre by the work he did for them. It was about July 15, 
two weeks after most of the wheat in southern Kansas had been 
cut, and much of the grain was bent over. The commissioner 
noted this condition and asked if the combine could pick up the 
fallen ends. The farmer replied in the affirmative, pointing to an 
attachment fastened to the sickle that performed this operation- 



516 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

" Don't you lose a large amount of grain when the wheat becomes 
overripe and goes down?" asked the commissioner. 

"No," replied the farmer. "We save more wheat with the 
combine than with the header or the binder. The loss from shat- 
tering with the old-style methods of harvesting is much greater 
than it is with the combine. ' ' 

The farmer then explained that when the wheat is headed or 
bound, it must be handled at least twice before it reaches the 
threshing machine. And in this handling, considerable shatter- 
ing takes place. The fact that neither the grain nor the straw is 
ever touched when the wheat is cut and threshed through the 
simultaneous operation of the combine reduces the waste. 

COST REDUCTION 

In Kansas last year there were 8000 combines in use on the 
Kansas wheat farms. It is estimated that the number had been 
increased to 13,000 for this year. It has meant an investment of 
upward of $25,000,000, but the bankers tell me that it has been in 
most cases liquidated out of the saving. ' ' In spite of the increased 
investment, the wheat farmer has a larger net return upon a 
period of two or three years, ' ' said one banker. 

"When depreciation and interest are added to the variable 
costs of the combine, we usually find that the cost per acre of 
harvesting and threshing with the combine is approximately 
one-half the cost of harvesting with a header or a binder," said 
another banker. This estimate is also approved by the State 
Agricultural College of Kansas. 

Kansas usually harvests one hundred fifty million bushels or 
more each year. The average cost per bushel of getting the wheat 
into the bin under the old system is about thirty cents. If the 
Kansas farmer is making fifteen cents per bushel net on his in- 
vestment, it runs up to a neat saving. As a matter of fact, many 
of them, with favorable yields and larger acreage, are doing 
much better than this saving. 

"No great saving like this ever came to a land without ruin- 



THE NEW HARVEST HAND 517 

ing somebody," I said to an Ashland banker who has been a 
financial mainstay of his district for many years. This man 
has seen his county evolve from a cow country to a farming coun- 
try. He saw over seventy carloads of horses and mules shipped 
out of the neighborhood within recent months, because the rapid 
motorization of the farming industry left nothing for the horse 
to do. He has seen the increase of machinery multiply the 
acreage of the farming and decrease the population. Said he : 
' ' Of course the combine creates a problem for the smaller farmer, 
who is unable to shift to the newer type of equipment. And he 
will find it difficult to compete with his neighbor who does shift. 
While this is a hardship on the farmer with limited funds, it will 
gradually be solved by the growing number of men who, after 
their own harvests are over, will use their combines for custom 
work, and who can serve their neighbors at a price profitable 
both to themselves and to their neighbors. ' ' 

THE STORAGE PROBLEM 

Out of the earliest movement of wheat has come likewise a new 
problem in storage. This, I noticed, is being met by an increasing 
number of bins and by increased elevator capacity in all the 
grain-gathering centers. The impossibility of selling the wheat 
as rapidly as it is taken from the harvest field will force the es- 
tablishment of an economic system that should have been estab- 
lished long before : namely, the addition of wheat bins on the 
farm and other storage capacity. Such provision will make pos- 
sible an orderly process of marketing. Much of the wheat now 
glutting the early markets does not come from financial necessity 
of the farmer to sell it; it comes from his lack of capacity to 
store it. The new arrangement forces new storage, and out of the 
saving he makes in the harvesting and threshing of his grain, he 
can well afford to build his storage. Wichita, which is the capital 
of the wheat-producing area of Kansas, has increased its elevator 
capacity more than 4,000,000 bushels within the last two years 
to meet the new problem of wheat storage. 



518 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Notes and Questions 

1. What is a "combine"? How does this machine assist the farmer? 
How were farmers forced to adopt some new plan to accomplish the 
work that had to be done in the harvest time ? Compare the scene in the 
harvest fields today with that of a few years ago. 

2. In what way does the combine make the life of the farmer's wife 
more agreeable? How many men are needed to operate the combine? 
Compare this number with those needed for the old-time system of 
harvesting? 

3. The combine is a great saver of time and human labor ; what other 
service does it render the farmer ? Compare the cost of the new system 
of farming with that of the old. What class of people suffer because 
they cannot adopt the newer type of farm equipment? How may this 
be remedied? 

4. Mention some of the problems the farmers had to meet when 
they adopted the new farm machinery. How are these problems gradu- 
ally being solved? 

5. Compare the work on the farm as it is pictured in this selection with 
that of the early western pioneer farmers in Hamlin Garland's great 
books A Son of the Middle Border, A Daughter of the Middle Border, 
and Main-traveled Roads. 

You may wish to read "How the Farmer Feeds the World" (in 
Compton's Pictured Encyclopedia) and "The Bread by Which We Live" 
(in The Book of Knowledge, Volume X). 



A MESSAGE TO GARCIA 

Elbert Hubbard 

"A Message to Garcia" will have more meaning and interest for you 
if you read first the note given on page 523. 

In all this Cuban business there is one man who stands out on 
the horizon of my memory like Mars at perihelion. When war 
broke out between Spain and the United States, it was very neces- 
sary to communicate quickly with the leader of the Insurgents. 
Garcia was somewhere in the mountain fastnesses of Cuba — no 
one knew where. No mail or telegraph message could reach him. 
The President must secure his co-operation, and quickly. 

What to do ! 

Someone said to the President, ' ' There 's a fellow by the name 
of Rowan will find Garcia for you, if anybody can. ' ' 

Rowan was sent for and given a letter to be delivered to Garcia. 
How ' ' the fellow by the name of Rowan ' ' took the letter, sealed 
it up in an oilskin pouch, strapped it over his heart, in four days 
landed by night off the coast of Cuba from an open boat, dis- 
appeared into the jungle, and in three weeks came out on the 
other side of the Island, having traversed a hostile country on 
foot and delivered his letter to Garcia — are things I have no 
special desire to tell in detail now. The point I wish to make is 
this: McKinley gave Rowan a letter to be delivered to Garcia; 
Rowan took the letter and did not ask, ' ' Where is he at ? ' ' By the 
Eternal ! there is a man whose form should be cast in deathless 
bronze and the statue placed in every college in the land ! It is 
not book learning young men need, nor instruction about this 
or that, but a stiffening of the vertebrae that will cause them to 
be loyal to a trust, to act promptly, concentrate their energies: 
do the thing — "Carry a message to Garcia." General Garcia is 
dead now, but there are other Garcias. 

No man who has endeavored to carry out an enterprise wherein 

519 



520 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

many hands were needed, but has been well-nigh appalled at 
times by the imbecility of the average man — the inability or un- 
willingness to concentrate on a thing and do it. 

Slipshod assistance, foolish inattention, dowdy indifference, 
and half-hearted work seem the rule ; and no man succeeds unless, 
by hook or crook or threat, he forces or bribes other men to 
assist him ; or mayhap, God in His goodness performs a miracle, 
and sends him an Angel of Light for an assistant. You, reader, 
put this matter to a test: You are sitting now in your office — 
six clerks are within call. Summon any one and make this re- 
quest : ''Please look in the encyclopedia and make a brief memo- 
randum of Correggio." 

Will the clerk quietly say, "Yes, sir," and go to the task? 

On your life he will not ! He will look at you out of a fishy eye 
and ask one or more of the following questions : 

Who was he ? 

Which encyclopedia? 

Where is the encyclopedia ? 

Was I hired for that? 

Don 't you mean Bismarck ? 

What's the matter with Charlie doing it? 

Is he dead? 

Is there any hurry? 

Shall I bring you the book and let you look it up for yourself ? 

What do you want to know for? 

And I will lay you ten to one that after you have answered the 
questions, and explained how to find the information, and why 
you want it, the clerk will go off and get one of the other clerks to 
help him to try to find Garcia — and then come back and tell you 
there is no such man. Of course I may lose my bet, but, accord- 
ing to the Law of Average, I will not. 

Now if you are wise, you will not bother to explain to your 
" assistant ' ' that Correggio is indexed under the C's, not in the 
K's, but you will smile sweetly and say, "Never mind," and go 
look it up yourself. 



A MESSAGE TO GARCIA 521 

The dread of getting ' ' the bounce ' ' Saturday night holds many 
a worker to his place. Advertise for a stenographer, and nine 
out of ten who apply can neither spell nor punctuate — and do 
not think it necessary to. Can such a one write a letter to 
Garcia 1 

"You see that bookkeeper, ' ' said a foreman to me in a large 
factory. 

"Yes; what about him?" 

"Well, he's a fine accountant, but if I'd send him uptown on 
an errand, he might accomplish the errand all right ; and on the 
other hand, might stop on the way, and when he got to Main 
Street, would forget what he had been sent for." Can such a 
man be intrusted to carry a message to Garcia? 

We have recently been hearing much maudlin sympathy ex- 
pressed for the "downtrodden denizens of the sweatshop" and 
the "homeless wanderer searching for honest employment," and 
with it all often go many hard words for the men in power. 

Nothing is said about the employer who grows old before his 
time in a vain attempt to get frowsy ne 'er-do-wells to do intelli- 
gent work ; and his long, patient striving with ' ' help ' ' that does 
nothing but loaf when his back is turned. In every store and 
factory there is a constant weeding-out process going on. The 
employer is constantly sending away "help" that have shown 
their incapacity to further the interests of the business, and 
others are being taken on. 

No matter how good times are, this sorting continues, only if 
times are hard and work is scarce, the sorting is done finer — but 
out and forever out the incompetent and unworthy go. It is the 
survival of the fittest. Self-interest prompts every employer to 
keep the best — those who can carry a message to Garcia. 

I know one man of really brilliant parts who has not the ability 
to manage a business of his own, and yet who is absolutely 
worthless to anyone else, because he carries with him constantly 
the insane suspicion that his employer is oppressing, or intending 
to oppress him. He cannot give orders ; and he will not receive 



522 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

them. Should a message be given him to take to Garcia, his an- 
swer would probably be, * ' Take it yourself ! ' ' 

Tonight this man walks the streets looking for work, the wind 
whistling through his threadbare coat. No one who knows him 
dares employ him, for he is a regular firebrand of discontent. 

Of course I know that one so morally deformed is no less to be 
pitied than a physical cripple; but in our pitying, let us drop 
a tear, too, for the men who are striving to carry on a great en- 
terprise, whose working hours are not limited by the whistle, 
and whose hair is fast turning white through the struggle to hold 
in line dowdy indifference, slipshod imbecility, and the heartless 
ingratitude which, but for their enterprise, would be both hungry 
and homeless. 

Have I put the matter too strongly ? Possibly I have ; but when 
all the world has gone a-slumming, I wish to speak a word of 
sympathy for the man who succeeds — the man who, against great 
odds, has directed the efforts of others, and having succeeded, 
finds there's nothing in it — nothing but bare board and clothes. 
I have carried a dinner pail and worked for day's wages, and I 
have also been an employer of labor, and I know there is some- 
thing to be said on both sides. There is no excellence, per se, in 
poverty ; rags are no recommendation ; and all employers are not 
rapacious and high-handed, any more than all poor men are vir- 
tuous. 

My heart goes out to the man who does his work when the 
"boss" is away, as well as when he is at home. And the man 
who, when given a letter for Garcia, quietly takes the missive, 
without asking any idiotic questions, and with no lurking inten- 
tion of chucking it into the nearest sewer, or of doing aught else 
but delivering it, never gets ' ' laid off. ' ' Civilization is one long, 
anxious search for just such individuals. Anything such a man 
asks shall be granted. His kind is so rare that no employer can 
afford to let him go. He is wanted in every city, town, and vil- 
lage — in every office, shop, store, and factory. 

The world cries out for such ; he is needed, and needed badly — 
the man who can carry a message to Garcia. 



A MESSAGE TO GARCIA 523 

Notes and Questions 

Elbert Hubbard (1859-1915), a native of Bloomington, Illinois, was 
one of the ill-fated passengers on board the Lusitania when it was sunk. 
He was an author and lecturer, his message being the joy of work well 
done. He founded the Roycroft Shop, in East Aurora, New York, which 
is devoted to the making of fine editions of books. 

The author tells us that this "literary trifle," "A Message to Garcia/' 
was written February 22, 1899, after supper, in a single hour, and after 
a particularly trying day. It was suggested to him by a discussion, over 
the teacups, of the Spanish-American war, his son maintaining that 
Rowan was the real hero of the war. The day after "A Message to 
Garcia" was published, the New York Central Railway ordered reprints 
of it, distributing over a million copies among its employees. 

Garcia was a Cuban patriot who gave valuable aid to the American 
forces during the Spanish- American war. At the close of the war he 
was made chief of a commission to discuss with President McKinley the 
future of Cuba. Andrew Rowan, a West Point graduate, was promoted 
to the office of lieutenant colonel of the United States Army for the 
service described in this sketch. 

1. Read the selection through silently. Then test your comprehension 
by the use of this outline : 

(a) What Rowan did 

(&) What young men need 

(c) Testing a group of clerks 

(d) The probable result of the test 

(e) The stenographer, the bookkeeper 
(/) The case of the employer 

2. Why do you think the New York Central Railroad distributed 
copies of "A Message to Garcia" among its employees? What resolve 
did you make after reading "A Message to Garcia"? Who are the 
"Rowans" in your school? 

3. Which do you think is more to be admired, devotion to a cause 
or to a leader ? Give reasons for your answer. 

4. Give the personal characteristics of the man that you would trust 
to "carry the message to Garcia." 

Other stories about great deeds are: "Gorgas, Redeemer of the 
Tropics," Moore; "Goethals," Mackaye (in Child-Library Readers, Book 
Eight). 



A BACKWARD LOOK 

The literature of a country reflects, as in a mirror, not 
only the scenes, but the life and the ideals of its people. 
What, for instance, does the poem " Snow-bound" reveal 
to us of life on a New England farm in pioneer days? Of 
neighborliness ? What part of our country does Washing- 
ton Irving describe? What quality in Evangeline makes 
her a heroine not only of her particular time, but of all 
time? What traits has Rip Van Winkle that we find also 
in ourselves to a greater or less degree? How does this 
recognition affect our sympathy for Rip ? How do the de- 
scriptions of American scenes by Whittier, Irving, Long- 
fellow, and Lanier differ from those found in your geog- 
raphy ? 

Humor is said to be one of our American characteristics ; 
name three well-known humorists of American literature. 
Which one is represented in this part? Who edits the 
humor column of your newspaper? In Irving 's time pic- 
tures were not widely used to furnish humor for newspaper 
and magazine readers; name some present-day cartoonists 
and the well-known characters they have created. 

We like to think of courage, too, as an American trait; 
what two Americans represented in this part of our book 
would you mention for outstanding courage ? Which selec- 
tion, picturing America at work, made you feel the joy of 
work? Which one broadened your sympathy for the 
worker ? 

Now that you have come to the end of your book, you 
may well ask yourself what benefits you have gained from 
your reading. It is the hope of the authors that you have 
gained in power to enjoy nature; to share in the joys of 
adventure; to value the good citizen; to enjoy wholesome 
fun; and to share in the glory of work. 

524 



SOME RECENT BOOKS YOU WILL ENJOY 

Part One. The World of Nature 

Enos Mills of the Rockies, by Hildegarde Hawthorne and Esther 
Burnell Mills. Houghton, 1935 

An interesting story of the life of the great naturalist, Enos Mills 

Sa jo and the Beaver People, by Grey Owl. Scribner, 1936 

How two small beaver kittens were rescued by an Indian and 
brought up by his son and daughter. The author has devoted much 
energy to the protection of the beaver. 

An Aquarium Book for Boys and Girls, by Alfred Morgan. Scribner, 
1936 

A practical guide for all boys and girls interested in keeping fish 

The Stars for Sam, by W. Maxwell Reed. Harcourt, 1931 

The Sea for Sam, by W. Maxwell Reed. Harcourt, 1935 

Both are fascinating informational books for boys and girls who 
are interested in the world in which we live. 

Wild Life of the South, by Archibald Rutledge. Stokes, 1935 

A collection of nature essays and anecdotes by a skilled naturalist 

Shaggy, the Horse from Wyoming, by Russell Gordon Carter. Sut- 
tonhouse, 1935 

Winner of the first prize in the Julia Elsworth Ford Contest for 
the encouragement of better books for boys and girls. Attractively 
illustrated 

Boy on Horseback, by Lincoln Steffens. Harcourt, 1935 
An autobiography of a great lover of horses 

The Tale of Two Horses, by A. F. Tschiffely. Simon & Schuster, 
1935 

Two horses relate their experiences on a journey from Buenos 
Aires to Washington, D. C. 

525 



526 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Kelpie, the Gipsies' Pony, by Ursula Moray Williams. Lippincott, 
1935 

How Tammas and his wild moorland pony were kidnapped by 
the gipsies 

Part Two. The World of Adventure 

Yankee Ships in Pirate Waters, by Rupert Sargent Holland. Garden 
City Pub. Co., 1935 

Awarded first place for the year's best book for boys and girls 
by the Child Study Association of America 

Head Wind, by Hawthorne Daniel. Macmillan, 1936 
A thrilling pirate story 

The Nub, by Robb White III. Little, 1935 

Another exciting tale of pirate adventure 

All Sail Set, by Armstrong Sperry. Winston, 1935 

The story of the maiden voyage of the Flying Cloud around 
the Horn 

The Pony Express Goes Through, by Howard R. Briggs. Stokes, 
1935 

An account of the heroism of the riders who first linked the 
East and the West in regular mail service 

North to the Orient, by Anne Morrow Lindbergh. Harcourt, 1935 
An account of the trip the author took with her husband, Col. 
Charles Lindbergh, across the top of the world 

Exploring Today, by Lincoln Ellsworth. Dodd, 1935 

The story of the author's adventures in his explorations by air 

Discovery, by Richard Evelyn Byrd. Putnam, 1935 

The story of the second Byrd Antarctic expedition 

Adventures in the African Jungle, by C. E. and M. L. Akeley. Dodd, 

1930 

An exciting book of big game adventure 



SOME RECENT BOOKS YOU WILL ENJOY 527 

New Worlds to Conquer, by Richard Halliburton. Bobbs, 1930 
A light and entertaining book of travel in Spanish America 

Around the World in Eleven Years, by Patience, Richard, and John 
Abbe. Stokes, 1936 

A humorous story of life in many lands as told by the children 
themselves 

Whistlers' Van, by Idwal Jones. Viking Press, 1936 

One of the outstanding adventure stories of the year 

Radio, by John Langdon-Davies. Dodd, 1935 

The story of the capture and use of radio waves 



Part Three. The Good Citizen 

The Boys' Life of Benjamin Franklin, by Helen Nicolay. Appleton- 
Century, 1935 

A biography of Franklin which reveals to young readers the 
many-sidedness of his personality 

The Father of Texas, by Eugene C. Barker. Bobbs, 1935 
Life of Stephen F. Austin written for young people 

The Boys' Life of Robert E. Lee, by Stanley F. Horn. Harper, 1935 
The story of the famous Southern leader 

The Golden Horseshoe, by Elizabeth Coatsworth. Macmillan, 1935 
Early American adventure and service 

Caddie Woodlawn, by Carol Ryrie Brink. Macmillan, 1935 

A good story of frontier life that received the John Newbery 
Medal for 1935 

Trail of the Ragged Fox, by P. L. Fitzgerald. Macrae Smith Co., 
1930 

Courageous incidents in the life of a pioneer boy 



528 ELSON JUNIOR LITERATURE— BOOK TWO 

Young People's Story of the Constitution, by George L. Knapp. 
Dodd, 1936 

How the Constitution was made and what has happened to it 

America's Story as Told in Postage Stamps, by Edward Monington 
Allen. McGraw, 1935 

Here is a United States History told by means of our com- 
memorative postage stamps. 

Dobry, by Monica Shannon. Viking Press, 1934 

Story of a boy's life in a little hamlet in Bulgaria. This book 
won the John Newbery Medal for 1934. 

The Young Tentmaker, by Yonel B. Mirza. Lothrop, 1935 

Biography of Omar Khayyam, the dreaming, thoughtful boy 
who became a great poet 

Part Four. Literature and Life in the Homeland 

Jane Addams of Hull-House, by Winifred E. Wise. Harcourt, 1935 
A simple story of a great woman, a great American, and a great 
lover of humanity 

Youth's Captain, by Hfldegarde Hawthorne. Longmans, 1935 

The story of the life of Ralph Waldo Emerson written for boys 
and girls 

Will Rogers, by P. J. O'Brien. Winston, 1935 

Story of one of America's best-loved citizens 

South of the Sunset, by Claire W. Churchill. Wilson, R. R., 1936 

Story of Sacajawea, the Indian girl who acted as guide for the 
Lewis and Clark Expedition 

Sun Up, by Will James. Scribner, 1931 
Stories of our Western cowboys 

Steve Merrill, Engineer, by William Heyliger. Appleton-Century, 
1935 

A story of fair play and ethical standards in business 



GLOSSARY 

PRONUNCIATION KEY 

The pronunciation of each word is shown just after the word, in this way: 
ab ne ga tion (ab-ne-ga'shon) . The letters and signs used have sounds as in the 
words shown below. The accented syllable is marked'. 



a at, can 

a came, face 

a far, father 

a all, ball 

a ask 

a alone, company 

a beggar, opera 



e end, bend 
e be, equal 
e her, certain 
e towel, prudent 
i it, pin 
I line, mine 
o on, not 
6 more, open 



6 to, move 

6 off, song 

o actor, second 

oi oil, point 

ou out, found 

u up, but 

u use, pure 

u put, full 



u nature 

d gradual 

t picture 

th thin 

th then 

z usury 



A single dot under a, e, o, 6, or u means that the sound is a little shorter 
and lighter, as in cot'tage, re-duce', gas'o-line, in'to, u-ni'ted. 



abnegation of self (ab-ne-ga'shon), 
giving up all thought of self 

abounded, were found in great 
numbers 

Acadie (a-ka-de), also Acadia, 
the former name of Nova Scotia 

adamant (ad'a-mant), stone 

Adayes (a-da'ez) 

addled (ad'ld), confused 

adherents (ad-her'ents), followers 

adverse (ad' vers), unfavorable 

affability (af-a-bil'i-ti), friendli- 
ness 

agog, eager 

Aidenn (a'den), paradise 

aileron (a'le-ron), hinged flap on 
wing of an airplane that helps to 
keep the airplane balanced 

alacrity (a-lak'ri-ti) , promptness 

albino (al-bi'no or al-be'no), white 
or whitish bird 



alder, a kind of tree, the wood of 
which is used by turners and the 
bark by dyers and tanners 

Aliena (a-li-e'na) 

Allahu (al'a-ho), Allah 

allegiance (a-le'jans), loyalty 

alloys (a-loiz'), mixture of two or 
more metals 

all-pervasive (per-va'siv), univer- 
sal 

ally (a-H'), friend; aid 

al oe (aK5), a plant which blossoms 
when it is one hundred years old 

amain (a-man / ), at full speed 

amaranth (am'a-ranth), an imagi- 
nary flower which never fades 

ambrosial (am-bro'zial), fragrant; 
delicious 

amicable (am'i-ka-bl), friendly; 
peaceful 

amorphas (a-m6r'fas), the amor- 
pha, a flowering plant 



529 



530 



GLOSSARY 



Amun (a'mon), one of the Egyp- 
tian gods, represented as a ram 
with curling horns 

anatomical engineering, bodily con- 
struction 

anchorite monk (ang'ko-nt), so 
called because it roams about by 
itself as an anchorite monk lives 
by himself 

andirons, utensils for supporting 
logs when burning in a fireplace 

Angel of the backward look, angel 
who records our lives 

animated bolsters (bol'sterz), soft, 
round pillows that seemed to have 
life 

annihilation (a-ni-hi-la'shon), to- 
tal destruction 

antagonist (an-tag'6-nist) , oppo- 
nent; enemy 

Apollonius (ap-o-16'ni-us), an an- 
cient Roman philosopher 

apprehensive (ap-re-hen'siv), fear- 
ful of what might happen 

approbation (ap-ro-ba'shon), ap- 
proval 

Arab (ar'ab), Arabian 

arched, made an arch over 

arduous (ar'du-us), difficult 

Ariel-airy ease, with the light move- 
ments of Ariel, a spirit of the air, 
in Shakespeare's The Tempest 

ar is toe ra cy (ar-is-tok'ra-si) , wealth ; 
rule by a small privileged class 

aromatic (ar-6-mat'ik), fragrant; 
strong-scented 

arras (ar'as), tapestry 

asepsis (a-sep'sis), a method of 
treatment of a wound in surgery 

askance, sideways 

asphodel (as'fo-del), in Greek 
mythology, a flower associated 
with the dead 

aspirations (as-pi-ra'shonz), am- 
bitions 

assiduity (as-i-du'i-ti), industry 



assiduous (a-sid'u-us), devoted 

assuage (a-swaj'), ease 

Atchafalaya (acn-a-fa-li'a), a bay- 
ou which is an inlet of the Red and 
the Mississippi Rivers 

attention, to, ready for action 

attunes his pipe anew, begins sing- 
ing again 

austere gravity of an executioner, 
extreme soberness of one who is 
obliged to do an unpleasant task 

avail, have power to hold me back; 
help 

av a rice (av'a-ris) , greediness 

Ave Maria (a'va ma-re'a) 

B 

Babylonish jargon, confusion 
balling, collecting in a ball-like mass 
balm in Gil e ad (gil'e-ad), peace in 

heaven 
barograph (bar'6-graf), instrument 

for measuring atmospheric pressure 
barrack (bar'ak), soldier's lodging 
barricade (bar-i-kad'), fortifica- 
tion; barrier 
battalions (ba-tal'yonz), armies 
baybrier, laurel tree 
Bayou of Plaque mine (bl'6; plak- 

men'), inlet near the town of 

Plaquemine 
bedight (be-dhV), adorned 
Bedlam, an insane asylum in London 
beetling, overhanging; gloomy 
Beg (beg), a title of honor in Turkey 

and in some other parts of the East 
beleaguer (be-le'ger), besiege 
Bell, the Bell Inn, a hotel 
Ben edi cite (ben-e-dis'i-te), bless 

you 

benevolence, kindness 
benignant (be-nig'nant), kindly 
bereave (be-rev'), sadden 
bereavement (be-rev'ment), loss 
bereft (be-reft / ), deprived of ; taken 

away from 



GLOSSARY 



531 



bias (Was), influence 

big no ni as (big-no'ni-az), a kind 
of tropical vine which bears flowers 

bigotry (big'ot-ri), narrow-mind- 
edness 

binoculars (bi-nok/u-larz), field- 
glasses 

bishop, wine and fruit juices 

blithe meteor, joyous shooting-star 

Blomidon (blom'i-don), a mountain 

Boar's Head, headland on the New 
Hampshire coast 

"bob," one shilling, equal to 24 cents 

bod iced zone (bod'ist), waist en- 
circled with a wide girdle 

bootless, idle 

Border, the land lying on either side 
of the boundary between England 
and Scotland 

borough (bur'o), village 

Bowdoin (bo'dn) 

bows (boz), U-shaped pieces about 
the necks, fastened to the yoke 

braid St. Catherine's tresses, remain 
unmarried 

brake, thicket 

brave in, making a great show with 

brawn, roasted meat 

brazier (bra'zher), pan for burning 
coals 

breach, empty space, because of 
capture of a king; opening 

brigands (brig'andz), robbers 

broad-girthed (brod'gerthd), large 
and fat 

broom sedge, large grasslike herbs 
often growing in dense tufts in 
marshy places 

buffer (buf'er), protection to lessen 
the shock 

burden, refrain 

burgeoning (ber'jon-ing), sprouting 

burgesses (ber'jes-ez), citizens 



buskins (bus'kinz), high boots 
butte (but), a steep hill that stands 
alone 



calender, one who presses cloth be- 
tween rollers to glaze it 

Camden Town, a suburb of London 

"came down" handsomely, did a 
generous thing 

candor (kan'dor), frankness 

canisters, cans for tea and coffee 

Cannobie Lee (kan'o-be le), ris- 
ing ground in southern Scotland 

caracoled (kar'a-kold), turned in 
a zigzag course 

cardinal, principal 

careering (ka-rer'ing), running 

carnivorous (kar-niv'o-rus), flesh- 
eating 

carries weight, is weighted down 
heavily as race horses sometimes are 

carrying their dinners, the houses of 
the poor people contained fire- 
places, but no ovens; so much of 
the cooking was done at public 
bake-ovens 

Carthusian (kar-thu'zian), one of 
an order of monks whose vows 
compel almost absolute silence 

case, condition 

cassena (ka-se'na), a kind of holly 
tree 

catholic (kath'o-lik), universal 

caustic (kas'tik), sharp 

Cedra (se'dra), a river 

celebrated herd, in Wordsworth's 
poem "March" 

censer, a vessel for perfumes or 
incense 

chafed ocean-side, ocean-side rubbed 
or worn away by the dashing of the 
waves 



at, came, far, all, ask, alone; end, be, her, towel; it, line; on, more, to, off, actor; 
oil, out; up, use, put, nature; picture; th, thin; th, then. See full key on p. 529. 



532 



GLOSSARY 



Chaldean plain (kal-de'an), wide, 
uncultivated stretches of land in 
Chaldea, an ancient country in Asia 
Chalkley. The incident narrated was 
retold from the Journal of Thomas 
Chalkley, a traveling Quaker 
preacher. 
chap let (chap'let), rosary 
Chattahoochee (chat-a-ho'che), a 
river in Georgia 
Cheapside, a street in London 
chewing some cud of bitter reflec- 
tion, thinking of some unpleasant 
experience 
china- tree, a flowering shade tree 
that grows in tropical soil 
chortled (chdr'tld), snorted 
chutes (shots), rapids 
ci-devant (se-de-van), former 
claret (klar'et), purplish red 
clean-winged, swept clean with a 
turkey's wing 
clime, climate 

cloud-land, land of mystery and 
romance 

Cochecho (ko-che'kd), in New 
Hampshire 
cockade (ko-kad / ), cock's comb 
colloquial (ko-16'kwi-al), conver- 
sational 
comely (kum'li), attractive 
communicable diseases, diseases that 
are carried from one person to 
another by germs 
com pre hen sive (kom-pre-.hen'siv) , 
including much 
conceived, begun 
con curs , etc . ( kon-kerz ' ) , assists in 

their undertakings 
con dor (kon'dor), a large bird of prey 
conducive (kon-du'siv), beneficial 
congealed (kon-jeld / ), hardened 
connubial (ko-nii'bi-al), having to 

do with marriage 
con san guin i ty (kon-sang-gwin'i-ti) , 
blood relationship 



con stel la tion (kon-ste-la'shon) , 

stars ; class of honored men 

con sum ma tion (kon-su-ma'shon) , 
bringing to a perfect close 

contemplation of theorists (kon- 
tem-pla'shon; the'o-rists) , atten- 
tion of those who merely think and 
do not put their ideas into practice 

convened (kon-vend'), called to- 
gether 

conventional standards, etc., the way 
the majority of people decide 
whether a man is great or not 

convergence (kon-ver'jens), com- 
ing together 

cope (kop), canopy 

copiousness (ko'pi-us-nes), large 
number; abundance 

coral (kor'al), skeleton of certain 
small sea-animals 

corner, etc., the small space allotted 
to a local contributor. Whittier's 
first published poem appeared in 
such a corner. 

Cornhill, a London street 

corpulent (kor / pu-lent), very fat 

corral (ko-raK), inclosure for con- 
fining or capturing animals 

corries (kor'ez), hollow places 

cor rob o rat ed (ko-rob'o-ra-ted) , ad- 
mitted the truth of 

couch ant (kou'chant), crouching 

coulee (ko'le), bed of a dried-up 
stream 

counterfeited, imitated 

cou reurs-des-bois (ko-rer-da-bwo) , 
hunters and trappers of western 
North America, especially Canada 

cowering fugitives (kou'er-ing), 
fugitives crouching in fear 

coyotes (ki-o'tezorki'otz), prairie 
wolves 

crane, iron hooks hanging over a fire 
to support kettles 

cravat (kra-vat / ), necktie 

craven, cowardly 



GLOSSARY 



533 



craws (kraz), crops of birds or 
insects 

credentials (kre-den'shalz), letters 
of recommendation or identification 

credulous fancy (kregYu-lus) , im- 
agination 

creed of caste, belief that one must 
remain in the class into which he 
was born 

Creeks, Indians who, in 1826, were 
driven from Georgia and across 
the Mississippi River 

Creoles (kre'olz), persons of Span- 
ish or French descent brought up 
in a colonial possession 

crest, top of the head 

croup (krop), the back of a horse 

crypt (kript), hiding-place 

crystalline (kris'ta-lin), pure 

cunning-warded, carefully guarded 

cupola (ku'po-la), small structure 
on top of a roof 

cypress-trees, symbols of mourning 



daft McGregor, Sir Gregor Mc 
Gregor, who foolishly attempted to 
establish a colony in Costa Rica 
dastard, coward 
deal, board of fir or pine; wood 
dearth (derth), want 
decades (dek'adz), periods of ten 
years each 

de cant er (de-kan'ter) , glass bottle 
declension (de-klen'shon), descent 
decorum (de-ko'rum) , dignity 
deference (def'e-rens), respect 
delegated power, power of one to act 
or vote for others, with their per- 
mission 
delineate (de-lin'e-at) , describe 
democracy (de-mok'ra-si), a gov- 
ernment by the people 



denizens (den'i-zenz), workers 

deportment easy, manner of carrying 
himself gracefully 

deranged, disturbed 

derived, received 

descried (des-krid'), made out 

desecrated (des'e-kra-ted), made 
less sacred 

desert's highest born, the proudest 
and most intelligent of the desert 
animals 

despotic power (des-pot'ik), ty- 
rant rule 

destiny, fate 

dilapidated (di-lap'i-da-ted), 

abused; underfed; ruined 

diminution (dim-i-nu'shon), less- 
ening 

dip, candle 

dirge, psalm or hymn sung at a 
funeral; sad song 

dirigible (dir'i-ji-bl), balloon that 
can be steered 

disciplined intellect (dis'i-plind), 
well-trained mind 

disgorged (dis-g6rjd'), gave forth 

dislocated by sudden circumstances, 
forced to be changed by unexpected 
happenings 

dismembered (dis-mem'berd), sep- 
arated 

disparage (dis-par'aj), speak slight- 
ingly of; dishonor 

dispelled, done away with; driven 
away 

disputatious (dis-pu-ta'shus), fond 
of argument 

disquietude (dis-kwi'e-tiid), un- 
easiness 

dissonant (dis'6-nant), discordant 

distaffs, staffs for holding the bunches 
of flax or wool in spinning 

diversified (di-ver'si-fld), various 



at, came, far, all, ask, alone; end, be, her, towel; it, line; on, more, to, off, actor; 
oil out; up, use, put, nature; picture; th, thin; th, then See full key on p. 529. 



534 



GLOSSARY 



dolomite (doKo-mlt), kind of rock 
used in making steel 

domestic adherent (ad-her'ent) , 
home follower 

domestic tribulation (trib-u-la / - 
shon) , home troubles 

"Don't be flowery," speak simply 
and to the point 

draft-board, checker-board 

Druids of eld, an ancient order in 
England who thought that trees 
were sacred 

ductility (duk-til'i-ti), pliability; 
flexibility 

E 

eke (ek), also 

eked out (ekt), pieced out; added to 

elicited (e-lis'i-ted), brought forth 

Elijah (e-li'ja), see II Kings ii 

Ellwood, a Quaker who wrote a long 
poem on the life of David 

elucidation (e-lu-si-da'shon) , a 
clear explanation 

embargo (em-bar'go), obstruction 

embattled, armed 

em bod i ment (em-bod'i-ment) , bod- 
ily representation of 

embrasure (em-bra'zhur), wall 

opening 

encroachment (en-kroch'ment), in- 
vasion 

ends will change, future will be 
different 

enemy in station, hostile army en- 
camped 

engendered (en-jen'derd), caused; 
bred 

engrosses you, occupies all your 
thoughts and time 

enkindleth (en-kin 'dleth), inspires 

entailed (en-tald / ), made necessary 

envy, the vice of republics. In a 
republic, where all men are equal 
under the law, there is likely to be 
envy of those who have more money 
or brains. 



Erzeroum (erz-rom'; here er'ze- 
rom for meter), a division of 
Turkey 

Esk, a river in southeastern Scotland 

essence (es'ens), soul 

eulogy (u'15-ji), oration of praise 

execrable (ek'se-kra-bl), shocking 

extent of its compass, length of its 
range 

exuberant fertility (eg-zu'be-rant), 
abundant richness 

exultation (ek-sul-ta'shon), de- 
light 

F 

fabric of social order, organization 
of humanity 

facetious (fa-se'shus), witty 

facile (fas'il), easy 

factious (fak'shus), fond of stirring 
up disputes 

familiar of men, companion of people 

Fata Morgana (fa'ta mor-ga'na), 
a fairy who deceived people by mak- 
ing them think they saw things 
that did not really exist 

fatal sisters, in Greek mythology, 
the three Fates who decided the 
course of men's lives 

fate of a nation, future happiness of 
the land 

father to their thought, source of 
their thought 

fays, fairies 

fealty (fe'al-ti), loyalty 

Federal or Democrat, the two parties 
organized when the Constitution 
was adopted 

feign (fan), like to imagine 

felicity (fe-lis'i-ti), bliss; happi- 
ness 

ferocious condescension (fe-ro'- 
shus kon-de-sen'shon), fierce pat- 
ronizing manner 

ferret (fer'et), sharp like the eyes 

of a ferret, a small animal used for 
hunting rabbits and rats 



GLOSSARY 



535 



fettered, bound with chains 
fictitious (fik-tish'us), false 
finished talent, perfect gift 
fireguard, screen to keep sparks from 

flying out into the room 
fire-winged. Many of the early 

Quakers suffered death by burning, 

because of their religious beliefs. 
flagons (flag'onz), large vessels for 

holding liquor 
Flemish pictures, pictures which treat 

simple household subjects lovingly 

and in great detail 
fluctuated (fluk'tu-a-ted), changed 
fluency (flo'en-si), smoothness 
Fontaine-qui-bout (fon-ten-ke-bo) 
forbearance, patience 
Fort Christina, a Swedish fort on the 

Delaware River taken by the Dutch 

in 1654 
fowler (fou'ler), one who kills wild 

fowl for sport or food 
fraught (fr&t), burdened 
frenzied Bacchantes (fren'zid ba- 

kants'), riotous merrymakers 
frontlet (frunt'let), forehead 
furze, evergreen shrubs 
fused bank (fuzd), melted mass of 

metal 
futile, useless 



Gabriel Lajeunesse (la-zhe-nes) 
galleon (gal'e-on), a sailing vessel 

of the fifteenth and later centuries 
galliard (gal'yard), dance 
galligaskins (gal-i-gas'kinz), loose 

breeches 
gallows air, depressed-looking, as if 

about to be hanged 
Ganymede (gan'i-med) 
garden-sweep, broad road through 

the garden 



ge o met ric signs (je-6-met'rik) , 
snowflakes; referring to the regular 
and beautiful designs of the snow- 
flakes 

gibbet (jib'et), bare and dreary- 
looking 

girt, surrounded 

glebe (gleb), ground; soil 

gleeds (gledz), flames 

glistened at her noon, she was still 
youthful in middle life 

gluttony, greediness 

Gothic, a beautiful style of archi- 
tecture, distinguished especially for 
its pointed arches 

gradation (gra-da'shon), musical 
interval 

Graemes (gramz) 

gra mercy (gra-mer'si), thanks 

Grand-Pre (gran-pra), French for 
great prairie 

gratis (gratis), for nothing 

great plot, important events 

grenadier (gren-a-der / ), member 
of a special regiment or corps 

grog, mixture of liquor and water 
unsweetened 

guerdon (ger'don), reward 

guinea stamp (gin'e), indication of 
wealth 

gun da low (gun'da-16), another 

form of gondola, a. heavy flat- 
bottomed boat 



habitual ascendancy (a-sen 'dan-si) , 

constant control 
hake, a salt-water fish of the cod 

family 
half-a-crown, about sixty cents 
half-a-quartern, half a gill 
half-re cum bent (re-kum'bent) , 

half-lying, half-sitting 



at, came, far, fill, ask, alone; end, be, her, towel; it, line; on, more, to, off, actor; 
oil, out; up, use, put, nature; picture; th, thin; th, then. See full key on p. 529. 



536 



GLOSSARY 



hallow, make holy 

Hamlet, a character in Shakespeare's 
Hamlet whose father's ghost ap- 
peared to him 

hanger, a short sword 

haranguing (ha-rang'ing) , giving a 
speech 

harpers hoar, gray-headed men who 
were skilled harpists in the ancient 
days 

harry (har'i), worry 

hautboy (ho'boi), oboe, a musical 
wind instrument 

heathen Nine, the nine Muses of 
Greek mythology, patrons of art, 
music, poetry, etc. 

hectic (hek'tik), exhausting 

heresy (her'e-si), disloyalty 

Hermes (her'mez), a famous 
Egyptian philosopher 

high-voltage currents, currents car- 
rying great electrical force 

Hingham sanctuary, located near 
Boston 

hob, a projection on the fireplace on 
which to warm things 

holster (hoKster), pistol case 

hostage from the future took, gained 
what would help him in time to 
come 

housings, saddle cover and trim- 
mings 

hys sop (his'op) , sprinkler for holy 
water 

I 

Ibrahim (ib'ra-him), the stranger's 
name 

idyllic ease (I-diKik), carefree life 
in the country 

illimitable (i-lim'i-ta-bl) , boundless 

im be cil i ty (im-be-sil'i-ti) , stupidity 

immortality, life beyond the grave 

im pen e tra ble (im-pen'e-tra-bl) , 
dark; incapable of being seen 
through; which he could not get 



impetuous (im-pet'u-us), hasty 

im pre ca tions (im-pre-ka'shonz) , 
curses 

impropriety (im-pro-prl'e-ti) , im- 
proper behavior 

impunity, with (im-pu'ni-ti), with- 
out fear of punishment 

imputing motives to, suspecting; 
attributing motives to 

in ad e quate to (in-ad'e-kwat) , un- 
able to meet 

inanimate (in-an'i-mat), lifeless 

in ar tic u late (in-ar-tik'u-lat) , in- 
distinct 

inaudible speech (in-a'di-bl), speech 
which could not be heard dis- 
tinctly 

inborn certainty, perfect sureness 

inclement (in-klem'ent), severe 

incoherent sounds (in-ko-her'ent) , 
sounds which could not be under- 
stood 

incomprehensible (in-kom-pre- 
hen'si-bl), difficult to understand 

incredulous (in-kregYu-lus), un- 
believing 

incuriously (in-ku'ri-us-li) , care- 
lessly 

indolent (in'do-lent), lazy 

indomitable (in-dom/i-ta-bl), un- 
tamable 

inertia (in-er'shia), lack of interest 

inexplicable (in-eks^pn-ka-bl) , un- 
explainable 

ingot (ing'got), bar of metal 

initiative (i-nish'i-a-tiv) , leader- 
ship 

innovator (in'6-va-tor), one who 
makes changes 

insinuate (in-sin'u-at) , suggest 

insuperable (in-sti'per-a-bl), in- 
curable 

intangible power (in-tan'ji-bl), a 
power not denned or necessarily 
legal, but very strong 

integrity (in-teg'ri-ti) , honesty 



GLOSSARY 



537 



intercedes, pleads 

intermediate, gradual 

intervention, interference 

inward light, religious convictions 

irascible (I-ras'i-bl), hot-tempered 

irised (I'rist), beautifully colored, 
like the rainbow 

i ron mong er y (I'ern-mung-ger-i) , 
general name for all articles made 
of iron 

irreparable (i-rep'a-ra-bl), be- 
yond repair; not repairable 

irrepressible (ir-e-pres'i-bl) , not 
controlled 

irrevocable (i-rev'6-ka-bl) , past 
recall 

Ishmael wandered with Ha gar 
(ish'ma-el ; ha'gar) , see Genesis xxi 

Ishmael' s children, Indians who, 
like Ishmael, "lived in the wilder- 
ness" and were archers; see Genesis 
xxi, 20 

Isles of Shoals, a group of small 
islands off the southeastern coast 
of New Hampshire 

Islington (iz -'ling- ton), a section 
of London 



Jacob of old, see Genesis xxxii 
jerkin (jer'kin), jacket 
Joe Miller, an English comedian 
judiciously (jo-dish 'us-li), skilfully 
"jungli wallah" (jung'gli wol'a), 

men sent out to look over the 

territory 
junto (jun'to), group 



Kashgar (kash-gar'), 

Eastern Turkestan 
kelp, seaweed 
kenned, knew 



the capital of 



khan (kan), resting-place for cara- 
vans 
Kirghiz (kir-gez'), people of Kir- 
ghiz, which is a little settlement 
between Russian Turkestan and 
Siberia 
kirtle (ker'tl), a close-fitting gown 
knolled (nold), summoned 
kraal (kral), a stockaded native 
village 



La Illah, etc., there is no God except 

Allah 
lacerated, torn 

ladder of Jacob, see Genesis xxviii, 12 
laggard in love, unworthy suitor 
lapsing, gently splashing 
latent (la'tent), hidden; undeveloped 
laving (la'ving), dipping into the 

water 
leaguer (le'ger), camp of a be- 
sieging army 
Letiche (la-tesh) 
license, privilege 
like the Hebrew, see Exodus xii, 

21,30 
Lilinau (li-lin'ou) 
links, torches 
liquidated (lik'wi-da-ted), paid; 

paid off, as a debt 
liter (le'ter), a little more than a 

quart 
little aided by invention, powerless 

to meet new situations 
Loch invar (lok-in-var') 
lode star (lodestar) , leading star 
Louisburg, Beau Sejour (bo sa- 

zhor), Port Royal, all scenes, in 

Canada, of conflict between the 

English and the French 
Loup-garou (16-ga-ro'), a person 

who has been changed into a wolf 



at, came, far, §11, ask, alone; end, be, her, towel; it, line; on, more, to, dff, actor; 
oil, out; up, use, put, nature; picture; th, thin; th, then. See full key on p. 529. 



538 



GLOSSARY 



loved her love, played a game with 
words beginning with each letter of 
the alphabet 

low-vaulted past, everything in your 
past that is unworthy 

lugubrious (lu-gu'bri-us) , mournful 

lures (lurz), snares 

lush, luxuriant 

lustrous (lus / trus), shining 

M 

mag ne site (mag'ne-slt), a silver 

white metal 
magnitude (mag'ni-tud) , size; extent 
mail of Calvin's creed, strict belief 

of John Calvin, a French religious 

reformer 
malady (mal'a-di), trouble 
malice (mal'is), ill will 
mal le a bil i ty (mal-e-a-bil'i-ti) , 

capability of being molded without 

heating 
malleable (mal'e-a-bl), yielding 
Malta, an island in the Mediterra- 
nean Sea 
mammoth (mam'oth), large, pre- 
historic animal 
manganese (mang-ga-nes'), hard, 

brittle grayish white metal tinged 

with red 
manifold (man'i-fold) , many 
manner born, to the, as if born to 

fill that very place 
marge (for margin), edge 
maxim (mak/sim), principle 
measure, dance 
me di oc ri ty (me-di-ok'ri-ti) , the 

ordinary 
medium, means 
medley, chorus 
Mem phre ma gog (mem-fre-ma'gog), 

a lake in Vermont and Canada 
menace (men'as), threat 
mendicant (men'di-kant), begging 
metamorphosed (met-a-mor'fozd), 

changed 



me te or ol o gists (me-te-o-rol'o- 

jists), people who study weather 

metes (mets), goals 

mimosa (mi-m5'sa), very sensi- 
tive tropical shrub 

mirage (mi-razh / ), appearance to 
the eye of objects that are not 
actually present 

misanthropic (mis-an-throp'ik), 
gloomy-looking 

misconceive (mis-kon-sev / ), mis- 
understand 

missal (mis'al), book of religious 
service of the Catholic Church 

Missouri Bad Lands, section of 
country that produces almost no 
vegetation 

mitten-blinded, blindfolded with a 
mitten 

modulations (mod-u-la / shonz), 

tones 

monograph (mon'5-graf ) , written 
account of a single life 

moor, stretch of wasteland; sandy 
marsh 

Moravian Missions, pertaining to 
the sect known as United Brethren 

morose (mo-ros / ), ill-tempered 

mote (mot), very small particle of 
dust 

mounting the breach, rising to the 
occasion 

mounting the eminence (em'i- 

nens), reaching the top of the hill 

move or two, the ways of the world 

Mow is (mo'is) 

Mozart (mo'zart), Austrian com- 
poser and pianist (1756-1791) 

mulled (muld), sweetened and spiced 

multiplied reverberations, in (re- 
ver-be-ra'shonz), echoes increas- 
ing in numbers 

Muse, goddess of poetry 

musical qualification, musical fitness 
of preparation 

mutation (mu-ta'shon), change 



GLOSSARY 



539 



N 
Natchitoches (nak/i-tosh; here four 

syllables for meter), a town in 

Louisiana 
natural make, own disposition 
natural sequence (se'kwens), logi- 
cal order of events 
Nature's unhoused lyceum (li-se'- 

um), school of the outdoor world 
Nebraska, the Platte River 
negus (ne'gus), a beverage 
nepenthe (ne-pen'the), a drink 

producing forgetfulness of pain 
night-encampment, cemetery 
Night's Plutonian shore (plo-to / ni- 

an), borderland of Hades, the 

abode of the dead ruled over by 

Pluto 
night-wind of the Past, borne on the, 

handed down in history 
Nilus (ni'lus), Latin for Nile 
Norfolk biffins (bif'inz), a variety 

of apple cultivated in Norfolkshire, 

England 
Norman cap, a cap, originally worn 

in France, with square corners 

turned back from the face 
nullah (nuKa), dry bed of a stream ; 

ravine 
nutritious (nu-trish / us) , nourish 

ing 
"nuts," a source of great pleasure 



ocherous (6'ker-us), yellowish or 
reddish 

odious (o'di-us), detestable; re- 
pulsive 

offal (of'al), rubbish 

officious zeal (o-fish'us), bustling 
eagerness to be helpful 

offing (of'ing), distance 

Olympus, a mountain in Greece on 
whose top the gods were believed 
to dwell 

opaque walls (o-pakO, walls which 
could not be seen through 

Opelousas (op-e-16'sas), a city in 
Louisiana 

open-hearth (harth), one of the 
processes of making steel 

o rac ular (o-rak'u-lar), like an oracle 

orange-planets. Oranges look like 
planets of orange color. 

orbits bright of minstrelsy, happy 
circlings about the tree, singing 

orderly train, well worked-out system 

organ of benevolence, heart 

orthographic (or-tho-graf'ik) , spell- 
ing 

ostler (os'ler), stableman 

outgrown shell, the body which the 
soul has freed itself from 

ovis poli (o'vispo'le), big horned- 
sheep 

Owyhee (o-wi'he), branch of the 
Snake River 



objective (ob-jek'tiv), the purpose 
toward which a journey is directed 

obliterate (ob-lit'e-rat), blot out; 
cover up 

oblivious to, unaware of 

obsequious (ob-se'kwi-us), very 
humble 

occluded (o-klod'ed), absorbable 

occult (o-kuh/), mysterious 



painful Sewel's ancient tome (torn), 
William Sewel's history of the 
Quakers and their sufferings 

palimpsest (pal'imp-sest), parch- 
ment which has been used several 
times, erased and rewritten on 

Pallas (pal'as), Athena, goddess of 
wisdom 



at, came, far, all, ask, alone; end, be, her, towel; it, line; on, more, to, off, actor; 
oil, out; up, use, put, nature; picture; th, thin; th, then. See full key on p. 529. 



540 



GLOSSARY 



palpable (pal'pa-bl), capable of 
being touched or felt 

Pamir (pa-mer'), lofty plateau 
region in Central Asia 

panicle, loosely-branched cluster 

pard-like, leopard-like 

Parrot, Robin Crusoe, Friday, from 
the book Robinson Crusoe, which 
Scrooge had enjoyed as a child 

patrimonial (pat-ri-mo'ni-al), in- 
herited from his father 

pellicle (pel'i-kl), thin film 

pern mi can (pem'i-kan), prepara- 
tion of dried meat, fat, and some- 
times dried fruit pounded into 
small cakes 

penance, punishment 

penitent Peter, see Matthew xxvi, 75 

penthouse, roof 

perception (per-sep'shon), feeling; 
understanding 

perfunctory (per-fungk'to-ri), list- 
less 

perihelion (per-i-he'li-on), that 
point .in the path of a planet at 
which it is nearest to the sun 

permeating (per'me-at-ing), far- 
reaching; finding its way elsewhere 

perse (perse), in itself 

personnel (per-so-neK), members of 
a group of persons in some public 
service 

perverse (per- vers-'), wrongly 

perversities (per-ver'si-tiz), con- 
trariness 

Peter Stuyvesant, governor of New 
Amsterdam (1645-1672) 

Petruchio's Kate (pe-tro'ki-oz), 
the scolding wife of Petruchio in 
Shakespeare's The Taming of the 
Shrew 

philomel (fiKo-mel), nightingale, a 
beautiful European songster 

phil o soph i cal principles (fil-o-sof / i- 
kal), sound reasoning 

phlegm (flem), calmness 

pile at ed (pil'e-a-ted), crested 



pin, mood 

Pindus-born A raxes (a-rak'sez), a 
river, famous in Greek mythology, 
which rises in the Pindus Mountains 
in Greece 

pinioned (pin'yond), held closely 

pique (pek), spur 

Pisa's leaning miracle (pe'za), 
tower in Pisa, Italy, which leans 
to one side 

Pis cat a qua (pis-kat'a-kwa), a 

river forming the boundary line 
between Maine and New Hampshire 

pitch and toss, the "heads or tails" 
game 

plain-song, the melody chanted 

plane-tree, sycamore; Xerxes, king 
of Persia, decorated a certain plane- 
tree that he admired with silks and 
jewels. 

plashy, wet 

possessed of a demon, under the 
control of an evil spirit 

posting down, riding at full speed 

precedent (pres'e-dent), example 
to be followed 

precepts (pre'septs), lessons 

pre cip i ta tion (pre-sip-i-ta'shon) , 
headlong rush 

precluding (pre-klod'ing), shut- 
ting out 

predominant (pre-dom'i-nant), in 
control 

prematurely (pre-ma-tur'li), be- 
fore expected 

presaging (pres'aj-ing), foretelling 

Prodigal Son, see Luke xv, 11-32 

prodigies (prod'i-jiz), wonderful 
feats 

prodigious (pro-dij'us), enormous; 
vast 

proffering (prof'er-ing), offering 

pro mul gat ed (pro-mul'ga-ted) , 

made known 

propagated in succession, taken up 
by one after another 

Prophet, etc., see Exodus xxxiv 



GLOSSARY 



541 



prophetic instinct of (pro-fet/ik), 
ability to foretell 

prophet's rod, see Exodus vii 

pros trates principalities (pros'trats) , 
overcomes tyranny 

prudence (pro'dens), cautious wis- 
dom 

Q 

Queen of Lebanon, Lady Stanhope, 
an eccentric Englishwoman with 
whom the "half- welcome guest" 
lived for a time in Syria, where 
Lady Stanhope was leader of some 
half-civilized tribes. Both women 
believed in the second coming of 
Christ in their lifetimes. 

Queen Titania, the queen of the 
fairies 

querulous (kwer'o-lus), complain- 
ing 



ramifications (ram-i-fi-ka'shonz), 
parts branching out 
rampant (ram -'pant), full of energy 
ramparts (ram'parts), defense 
rapacious (ra-pa'shus), greedy 
rapier (ra'pier), sword 
ratified (rat'i-fid), confirmed 
read the destiny, etc., judge what are 
the best courses to follow for the 
general good 
reciprocated (re-sip'ro-ka-ted), re- 
turned 
recked (rekt), cared; took heed 
reclamation (rek-la-ma'shon), res- 
toration to usual condition 
recompense (rek'om-pens), reward; 

payment 
reconnoiter (rek-o-noi'ter), look 
around 
red nightcap, the liberty cap, formerly 

shown on our silver coins 
refluent (ref / lo-ent) , ebbing 



refractories (re-frak'to-riz), ores 
or metals that are difficult to fuse 

re gent (re'jent), one who takes the 
place of the rightful ruler — here, 
of the shepherd 

reign of the Henries, last half of the 
16th century 

reiterated (re-it'e-ra-ted), repeated 

rejuvenant (re-jo've-nant), life- 
giving 

relevancy (rel'e-van-si), fitness; 
aptness 

rent, torn open 

respite (res / pit), rest; delay 

rev o lu tion ized (rev-5-lu'shon-Izd) , 
completely changed 

rhexia (rek'si-a), small plant 

rime, short, white, stiff hair suggest- 
ing frost 

ripened thought into action, in- 
fluenced others to action for good 

Rou shan Beg (ro'shan beg) 

rubicund (ro'bi-kund) , red-faced 

running such a rig, engaging in such 
a frolic 

S 

Saint Dunstan, an English monk 
of the tenth century who was 
tempted by an evil spirit whose 
nose he seized with red-hot tongs 

Saint Eulalie (u'la-le), a Roman 
saint of the fourth century a.d. 

St. Francois (fran-swo), St. Fran- 
cis River in Canada 

Salisbury's level marshes, in Mas- 
sachusetts 

samp, Indian corn, coarse ground and 
browned 

Saracens (sar'a-senz), a wander- 
ing race of the desert between Syria 
and Arabia 

savanna sparrows, brown and white 
sparrows inhabiting fields and 
meadows 



at, came, far, all, ask, alone; end, be, her, towel; it, line; on, more, to, off, actor; 
oil, out; up, use, put, nature; picture; th, thin; th, then. See full key on p. 529. 



542 



GLOSSARY 



savor (sa'vor), flavor; odor 

scathing (ska'THing), bitterly se- 
vere 

scar (skar), cliff; rock 

Scorpion, a constellation which the 
sun enters about October 23 

screw, miser 

selvage (seKvej), edge 

semaphore (sem'a-for) , a signal 
telegraph 

sepulchers (sep'ul-kerz), grave- 
like piles 

seraglio (se-ral'yo), inclosure 

seraphim (ser'a-fim), members of 
the highest order of angels 

seventh day, a plan was being made 
to close the public bake-shops on 
Sundays, which would have been a 
hardship to the poor people 

sextant, instrument used to deter- 
mine latitude and longitude 

shagbark, rough-barked, nut-bear- 
ing hickory tree 

shale (shal), soft, flaky rock 

shape and shadow, life 

shards, stones 

sheave (shev), a grooved wheel as 
of a pulley block 

sheer (sher), turn aside 

sheer, straight down; perpendicular; 
pure 

shikaries (shi-ka'rez) , hunters 

shingle bench, stony beach 

shipwrecked Paul. The apostle Paul 
was shipwrecked off the coast of 
Melita (now Malta) in the 
Mediterranean Sea. 

shook him, started him thinking 

shrine, protection for a sacred relic. 
The little log house is placed within 
a granite shelter. 

sibyl (sib'il), prophetess; beautiful 
enchantress 

Si e na 's saint (se-a'na) , St. Cather- 
ine of Siena, noted for her piety 

Sir Roger de Coverley, a dance like 
the Virginia Reel 



siren (si'ren), sea nymph 

Smyrna (smer'na), a town in 
Turkey 

solid esteem proportioned, respect 
that was well deserved 

solitudes blasted by flame, forests 
destroyed by fire (because of some- 
one's carelessness) 

Sol way (sol'wa), an arm of the sea 
between England and Scotland, on 
the west coast, noted for its swift 
tides 

sonorous (so-no'rus), giving a 
deep, loud sound 

sordid, selfish 

sort, way 

soubrette of taste (s6-bret')> co- 
quettish singer 

soul's debatable land, province of 
right and wrong 

sovereign (sov'e-ren or suv'e-ren), 
supreme in power or position 

spectacular panorama (pan-o-ra'- 
ma), broad view 

spectral (spek'tral), ghostly 

spherule (sfer'ol), small circular 
particle 

spontaneous combustion, fire caused 
by chemical action within a sub- 
stance 

spouse, wife 

spume-flakes, froth 

squint at his hatcher in the sky, took 
a, looked at the sun 

stagnant-blooded, lazy 

stalks, ways of approach under cover 
or by stealth 

stanchion (stan'shon), vertical bar 
on each side of the neck by which 
cows are fastened 

stayed, stopped 

steep, slope 

stuartia (stu-ar'ti-a), shrub with 
large single flowers 

student participation in the govern- 
ment, students taking active part 
in school government 



GLOSSARY 



543 



subsistence, living 
substance, wealth 
subtly (sut / li), mysteriously 
succulent (suk/u-lent), juicy 
supernal (su-per'nal), marvelous 
su per nat u ral creature (su-per-nat'- 
u-ral), one who is beyond the laws 
of nature 

surcease, forgetfulness; a coming to 
a stop 

susceptible (su-sep'ti-bl), sensi- 
tive to ; capable 
susurrous (su-sur'us), whispering 
swale (swal), a slight valley 
swath, line of grass already cut 
sweep, a long pole used for lowering 
or raising a bucket 
synchronize (sing'kro-niz), to agree 
in time 



tacitly (tas'it-li), silently 

tangled ram, see Genesis xxii, 1-13 

Tartar's lance, a long spear carried 
by Tartars, fierce horsemen of Asia 

Tashkurgan (tash-kor-gan'), a 

town in Afghan, Turkestan 

Ta yg e tus, etc. (ta-ij 'e-tus) , moun- 
tain range in Greece. Revolution- 
ary cavalry were recruited by 
Ypsilanti, a Greek patriot from 
Maina (ml'na), to fight against 
Turkey, the oppressor of Greece. 

teal, a small wild duck 

Teche (tesh) , a river in Louisiana 

temporarily confiscated, seized for 
the time being 

tenebrous (ten'e-brus), gloomy; 
dark 

tension (ten'shon), strain or stretch 

tent to tent, grave to grave 

Tents of Grace, translation of the 
name given by the Moravians to 
their mission 



termagant (ter'ma-gant) , quarrel- 
some 

The Chief, etc., from the poem "The 
African Chief," by Sarah Went- 
worth Morton 

the o ry (the'5-ri) , idea ; thought 

thewed (thud), built 

tholes (tholz), pegs on the sides of 
a boat to hold the oars in rowing 

thrall (thral), in slavery 

three-dimensional worlds, a world 
seeming to have length, breadth, 
and thickness 

thy fellows, other waterfowls 

Titan-like (ti'tan), like the fabled 
giants called Titans 

tocsin's alarum (tok'sin), warning 
signal 

torpor, heavy sleep 

Total Abstinence Principle, rule of 
going without alcoholic liquor; here, 
having nothing to do with spirits 

Tous les, etc. (to la bor-zhwo de 
shartr; le ka-re-yon de dun-kerk), 
"All the People of Chartres" and 
"The Chimes of Dunkirk," old 
French songs 

trainband captain, captain of a com- 
pany of trained citizen soldiers 

transient (tran'shent), passing 

transition very foreign (tran-sizh / - 
on or tran-zish'on), change in his 
trend of thought which was not 
customary 

translated (trans-la'ted), changed 
from anger to forgiving resignation 

transmission lines, carrying lines 

transmute (trans-muf), change 

transports, raptures 

Treadmill, a form of prison discipline 

Trebizond (treb / i-zond), a former 
division of Turkey 

tribute, taxes 

trice (tris), instant 



at, came, far, all, ask, alone; end, be, her, towel; it, line; on, more, to, off, actor; 
oil, out; up, use, put, nature; picture; th, thin; th, then. See full key on p. 529. 



544 



GLOSSARY 



Triton (tri'ton), a sea-god 
tufted, having a growth of feathers 

on top of the head 
tupelo (tu'pe-lo), tree having 

glossy leaves and red berries 
turbulent (ter'bu-lent), rushing; 

restless 
twelfth-cakes, cakes made for 

Twelfth Night, the twelfth night 

after Christmas 



ubiquitous (u-bik/wi-tus), seem- 
ing to be everywhere at once 

unanimity (u-na-nim'i-ti) , one- 
ness of mind 

unbartered, unbought 

un com pro mis ing (un-kom'pro- 

ml-zing), unyielding 

unctuous oil of insincerity (ungk'- 
tu-us), smooth over the trouble 
without honestly facing the issue 

unforgiving minute, unforgiving if 
the minute has been wasted 

unhallowed, unworthy 

unperturbed (un-per-terbd'), un- 
troubled 

unprofaned, sacred 

unseasonable allusions (a-lu / - 

zhonz), unsuitable remarks 

unshadowed main, the ocean which 
has nothing on it to cast a shadow 

Upharsin (u-far'sin), see Daniel v 

upon 'Change, in the Royal Ex- 
change, the center of London 
commerce 

usurper, one who unlawfully seizes 
a position or ruling power belonging 
to another 



validity (va-lid'i-ti), reliability; 

soundness 
vanguard, front section 
various communions, etc., different 

branches of the Christian church 



vaulted, arched 

vendue sales (ven-du'), auctions 

vernal, spring 

vestal, everlasting. The vestal vir- 
gins were young maidens who 
continually tended the sacred fires 
of Vesta, goddess of the hearth. 

vestige (ves'tij), trace 

vigilant, watchful 

virago (vi-ra'go), a quarrelsome 
woman 

visionary projects, plans not care- 

, fully thought out 

votive stone, monument 

W 

waifs of the tide, things left by the 

tide 
wains (wanz), wagons 
Walker, slang term meaning "You 

don't mean it!" 
Walleway (waKe-wa), branch of 

the Columbia River 
Wash, a small body of water 
weird in can ta tion (in-kan-ta'shon) , 

uncanny, magic story or song 
well-curb, the inclosing frame over 

the well 
whatever promised utility, whatever 

seemed for the best 
White of Selborne. Gilbert White 

wrote a natural history of Selborne 

(in County Surrey, England), where 

he was born. 
Wicaco (wi-ka'ko) 
wimpling (wim'pling), rippling 
wold (wold), plain; pasture 
wont, accustomed 
wrangler (rang'gler), herder 
wrought its ghost (rot), cast its 

shadow 



yourte (yort), the hut of the natives 
of northern and central Asia 
Yussouf (yus'uf) 



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